


Prophecy

by AmyDeHP



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Modern AU, Multi, TW:Suicide, tw:mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDeHP/pseuds/AmyDeHP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a battle with losses and illness, Rhaegar struggles to adapt with the world until he is faced with a challenge that threatens to destroy his sanity. Surrounded by mind games and loved ones with their own personal struggles, he has to balance the weight of the lives of others, and his own life and the lives of his people. (The last names of some characters have been changed to keep a connection with the modern world of America in 2016 and with the cultural background of each character).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream

Raindrops had adorned the window and with the impact with sunlight, they were like little jewels. Nothing in the world could be so picturesque. Nothing in the world was less like the way he felt.

Ray’s mouth was dry, his body felt like it was going to crumble, his muscles ached; when he raised his hand to touch the glass and cover a raindrop with his fingertip, his arm hurt. Well, thank god his head didn’t, at least. He turned around to face his room.

The well-furnished space was as organized as always. The only light was coming from the windows, but that was enough for it to be fully lit. On the bed, lay Jackie, covered only with sheets. She was a girl he’d met last night at the club. There was resentment at the thought of the club… he had to go only when he felt like sex. Otherwise, he hated clubs.  
But resentment didn’t only come from the thought of the club.

He went to the kitchen to find something to eat and more importantly, coffee. He found two croissants in the fridge, threw one in the microwave for seconds until the coffee was prepared. When breakfast was done, he went to the door to get the daily papers. He opened the door and saw the neat little box that he had prepared for papers he was subscribed to, and the writing with a black marker that said “Please drop paper here, thank you” on it. He was subscribed to every single paper in the state of Washington.  
He picked up three and went to the kitchen in a hurry to scan them, his stomach feeling hollow. He sat at the counter and quickly scanned the first one. Nothing. The second… nothing either. And finally the third… he was telling himself it was almost over…

Nothing.

He finally breathed easy, and took a small bite from the croissant. His platinum hair almost fell over his shoulder and into his plate, he pushed it back carelessly thinking of the dream.

“Hey!” he heard a voice behind him.

He turned around. Jackie was fully dressed now, and looked like she was leaving.

“Hi!” he tried his best to smile and be friendly. He succeeded a little bit. He always succeeded at those things. “I have another croissant. You must be hungry.”

“No, that’s okay, I have to meet family today in New York, and I haven’t prepared anything. I’m already late.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Have a nice day. Last night was great!”

He smiled back. “It was. Enjoy the road.”

She said goodbye and left. They didn’t have each other’s numbers and he didn’t know if he’ll see her at Rocket again. _Will he go to Rocket again?_ He rarely goes to the same club more than two or three times.

Once he was done with breakfast, he went to his library. His library was his world. An intricate room with the walls all shelves, its eastern wall a clear glass window with a view of Seattle. Half the money he had spent on this apartment, he had spent on this library, and it was almost half the space of the apartment as well. The rest was his bedroom, a kitchen, a small living room and a bathroom.

Ray closed the door so that the cat wouldn’t get in and make a mess. He went to the voice recorder by the window and played Tchaikovsky, then laid on the couch, picked up the book he was reading the day before and continued reading. Or tried. It wasn’t working; he just wasn’t getting into the book. He was still too anxious about the dream and about the scheduled meeting with a new psychiatrist. He hadn’t gone to a psychiatrist since Dr. Rolland had moved out of the state… and back then it was only about his bipolar disorder anyway. He wasn’t telling him anything… crazier. But this time he decided that he will because a solution had to be found. Every single day was a push farther towards the edge, and the void he was falling in was insanity itself.

When nothing he was doing was distracting him from his fears, he got up, put the book back in place, turned off the music and left the library. He went back to the kitchen to find that Sandy was up. His grey Persian was arching its back, and then licking its paws.

“Hey, girl…” he fixed some food and water for her. “I think I’ll be out early.”

Eating.

“Yeah, the appointment is at two, but I can’t find anything to do, so… I don’t know, I might stop by the book store.”

The cat chewed on the dry food loudly.

“There’s no such thing as too many books, I told you before. Wish me luck.”

The cat just looked at him like stop-making-noise and continued to eat.

“Um… stop talking about me having a crush on Mike, okay, that is not true!”

Mike was the guy at the book store. And when Ray talked to his cat, he was usually just talking to himself out loud, just answering his own questions.  
After Ray had gotten ready and got in his car, he called his mum.

“Hi mum.”

“Hi sweetie. How is your day?”

“Good. I’m going to the bookstore then going to see Dr. Desai.”

“That’s a bit early, isn’t it?”

“I woke up at, like, nine, and was too bored at home, so I left.”

“Why did you wake up so late? Is it another one-night stand?”

Ray blushed. “Mum…”

“I’m just saying, honey, how many one-night stands can you have before finding the one?”

 _I did find the one. She died._ “You know when I find him or her. In the meantime, tell dad I’m okay and don’t tell him I’m going to a new psychiatrist. He probably thinks bipolar was a phase or something like that.”

“I know. Just call me after it’s done and tell me what happened.”

“Okay. Bye mum.” His mum had a hard time understanding that things don’t get solved magically after you see a psychiatrist once. And he wasn’t even telling her about the worst part.

During his ride, Ray hummed absent-mindedly to some music and thought of a plane crash. Typically, it kills everyone on the flight. Most likely, it lands in water or desert land. But God forbid it lands on other people too.

What does one do to prevent a plane crash? As usual, he had no answers that could be done.

Before he knew, he was parking by the bookstore. “Williamson’s classic books”, the sign read. The storefront was decorated with ironwork from the turn of the century and the sign itself was carved on wood in Victorian letters. Ray pushed the door and entered. The smell of paper and wood and dust filled his lungs with comfort. Tom was standing on a chair arranging some books on a shelf, and Mike was behind the counter giving a girl her books in a paper bag, the girl turned around to leave the store and didn’t forget to give Ray a side glance. But his eyes were only on Mike.

Okay, Sandy had a right to ask: Mike Juarez was fucking gorgeous.

Mike was tall, albeit shorter than Ray. Where Ray was lean and a bit skinny, Mike was muscly and buff. Careless stubble grew on his face, on top of and underneath his full lips. He sported his dark brown hair in a crew cut. He turned to Ray and smiled.

“Hey! I didn’t expect to see you today! You said you had an appointment.”

“I woke up early and was too bored at home so I decided to stop by here prior. You guys have anything new?”

“Yeah, some girl came here this morning and dropped off a box in the used section. It’s good. Check it out. It’s in the corner by the twentieth century.”

Ray went to where Mike described to check out the box. It contained about thirty books. He grabbed one. The cover was a Victorian style painting of a girl on a swing in the middle of a garden. “The Lullaby – poems by Stephen Grey” the title read. He had never heard of the guy, but then again, his favorite thing was obscure books by obscure authors. He grabbed another… it was just an old edition of Pride and Prejudice; old enough to qualify as old, but not enough to be pricey.

“I think I’ll take the whole thing. How much?”

“She took 120$ for the whole thing.”

“I’ll give you 150$.”

“That’s actually more than you have to.”

“That’s okay.” The money wasn’t too much for him, and the store could always use the support. “I’m going to browse upstairs.”

“Take your time.”

“Oh, before I go…”

“You need something?” Mike asked him while looking down at a book he was reading.

“Are you doing something tonight?”

Mike raised his head to look at Ray. “Not really.”

“So, would you mind joining me for a drink?” Sandy will be ecstatic.

“Not at all.” He smiled. “Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Not really. I’ll pick you up at nine and we’ll see then.”

At nine, the store would be closing and Mike would be getting off. It seemed to sound cool to him. “Great. So, I’ll see you then.”

While climbing the stairs, Ray heard Tom shout from the top of the chair, “THAT TOOK YOU SOME TIME,” he chuckled.

* * *

 

Doctor Desai’s office was clean, generic, organized. Her walls and décor were beige with Creamsicle-colored accents. The couch he was told to lay on until the doctor comes in was a beautiful pattern, clearly Indian or Middle Eastern art. Like the secretary said, he lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, clearing his head. After five minutes, the doctor finally entered and shut the door. She was, as the name already told him, clearly from Indian descent. She had bronze skin, brown eyes and black hair cut short at the shoulders and curled elegantly. She was wearing a blue sweater and black pants.  
  
“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Elia Desai.”  
  
“Ray Daniels.”  
  
“Is that your actual first name or an abbreviation?” she was picking up her recording device and notebook from a shelf.  
  
He sighed. “My real first name is Rhaegar.”  
  
She chuckled. “What were your parents thinking?”  
  
“Let there be a child who will suffer forever.”  
  
She laughed and sat behind her desk. “I spoke to your previous doctor on the phone, Dr. Rolland, he said he diagnosed you with Bipolar disorder. Have you been taking your meds ever since?”  
  
He swallowed. “I have.”  
  
“Then what is the problem?”  
  
Ray got that hollow feeling in his stomach again. His mouth went dry. “Before I tell you… I want you to know that I’m not delusional. I’m not psychotic. I don’t… see things. I’m not crazy.”  
  
“People throw around that term lightly. I know that you’re not crazy, Ray.”  
  
“I want you to know that even after what I will tell you. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I don’t know if it’s mental or spiritual or whatever. I just need it to stop.”  
Her desk was facing the couch he was laying on. She was looking at him with concern, professional still. “I’m listening.”  
  
He took a deep breath. “I dream of things, and then they happen.”

* * *

 


	2. Help

The doctor had asked him about everything. Sleeping schedule, eating habits, job, sexual activity, smoking and alcohol, even drugs… all before trying to understand the actual problem.

“I need to understand your entire life, Ray. Can you give me an introduction, please? Slowly. From the beginning.”

Ray took a deep breath. “My name is Ray Daniels. I was born in 1990, so that makes me 26 years old. My father owns a few real estate companies and my mother is heiress to one of the biggest lawyers in the country, so that makes me a rich brat. After graduating high school, I left for California where I majored in literature in undergrad. You can imagine how my dad felt about that, but it made me very happy. It’s a secret of rich brats like me; when you already have your parents’ money, you don’t have to major in something you hate in order to survive capitalism.”

“While studying in UCLA, I met Hayley.”

Ray stopped. He swallowed his pain before continuing.

“It’s the typical story. Met her in college and fell in love. Believe it or not, I was actually going to marry her. I would have done anything that my father asked, go to Harvard Business like he wanted, to have him approve of the marriage. You know, a one-for-one type situation. You see, she wasn’t very rich, so I didn’t know how he’d feel about it. But anyway we got engaged as we were both about to graduate.”

“If I may ask, though…” Dr. Desai asked, carefully, “When did the symptoms of Bipolar disorder begin to appear?”

“When I was seventeen. Of course with time they got stronger and I only began seeing Dr. Rolland way later.”

“Continue.”

“So… one day weeks after our engagement, Hayley had gone to visit her parents in Nevada. I stayed in L.A because I had a lot of studying to do, and she was going to stay for a couple of days. On the night that she left, that was when it all started. Because, you see, I dreamed of the car accident that killed her.”

“Can you describe to me how that happened?”

“I slept, I dreamed of her in her car on the road, and she crashed. You can imagine how I woke up that night. I called her in a panic in the middle of the night, she said she was okay. I still had a bad feeling, and I remembered that in my dream, it was about sunset when the accident happened, so I warned her to not drive unless it’s full daylight. She must have thought I was being paranoid. She was coming back to L.A two days later, exact same time that I warned her against, and she crashed in the exact same way that I saw: into a pickup.”

“She didn’t die right away. She was taken to a hospital in the nearest town. I was her emergency contact so they called me. I held her hand while she died.”

There was silence for moments. “I’m very sorry.”

Ray opened his mouth to say it’s okay, but no words came out.

“Do you feel like continuing?”

He took a deep breath. “That was four years ago. After that, I was too defeated to fight with my dad for anything so I went to Harvard Business and moved back to Seattle where I bought an apartment from him from my trust fund and started working for his company. It was after Hayley’s death that I started seeing Dr. Rolland and was diagnosed with Bipolar. He was in Seattle, but I saw him during the vacations and spoke to him on the phone while I was at Harvard.”

“In those last five years, I saw thirteen dreams that came true to the tiniest detail, including the accident. After the accident I had thought it was maybe just a weird coincidence or because Hayley and I were soulmates it was some wacky spiritual thing that happened, but then when it kept happening, I couldn’t explain it anymore.”

“Ray…” Dr. Desai said calmly, “there’s something I need you to understand. You’re not a prophet. You’re not responsible for anything. There’s probably an explanation simpler and more logical than you think to what is happening to you. Mere coincidence is one where you could start.”

“There’s a line where things stop being a coincidence and start becoming absolutely fucking insane. Sorry. I need you to see something.”

Ray took his wallet from his pocket. He opened it and took out an envelope, got up and put it on the therapist’s desk. “Open it.”

He watched her open it and see the cut rectangles of text on greyish or off-white backgrounds.

“Articles from papers.”

“Those are all the things that I dreamed of that happened after Hayley’s accident. Alright, let me walk you through it.”

He took the papers from her and looked for it. “First one. A local theft where the thief killed a couple of senior citizens in their home and took everything. I saw it all, a week prior. The news didn’t say how exactly he killed them, but he actually strangled them with pillows after having drugged them.”

“I thought, okay, another weird coincidence, I was just creeped out, but whatever. A month later I dream of a man getting stopped by police cars after a car chase. He had a little girl in the backseat who was screaming. Two days later the paper says it happened in the suburbs; a sex offender kidnapped a little girl and he got caught exactly like that: He was forced to stop his car during a chase. No pictures were published, but the description of the guy and the little girl were exactly as I saw them.”

“At this point it was getting crazy. I couldn’t even prevent what I was seeing if it was bad because not only would no one believe me, but because I don’t even know where and when it happens. It’s not like one of those things where you see the Eiffel tower or the Grand Canyon in the background or a road sign or something and you know exactly where it is. There’s never anything like that. It’s always a generic highway, a generic small town, the inside of a house…”

“I can go through every single one of those headlines and articles with you, tell you when it happened, the details of the dreams… I even wrote the exact or almost-exact dates of the dreams on the back of each article.”

“Look, Ray…” the doctor was trying to calm him down. He realized that he was starting to get agitated and pace up and down the office. “This is the US. This country is immense and things of all kinds happen all the time. Isn’t it possible that you dream of something and then you scan the papers in order to find them, you find something very similar and your mind does the rest? Like I said, things happen here all the time.”

“And the accident with none other than my fiancée in it? And the exact descriptions and pictures of the people that I saw in my dreams being in the papers? Look, I know this doesn’t make any sense, but it’s real. I swear it’s real. I’ve been studying it, making sure of it, for four years now. Isn’t there any precedent… some sort of Fortean explanation? Or better yet, can you tell me about a way to prevent the crash of a plane from an unknown company, country and in an unknown place?”

“What are you talking about?”

He took a deep breath and held his left wrist with his right hand to calm himself down. “That’s what today’s dream was. A plane crash. I can’t for the life of me remember the logo that was on it, I remember it was red but I can’t remember what it said… I’ll try to google “Red airline logos” when I go home and compare the logos that appear to what I remember, but even then, when will that happen? To which plane? On which flight? Where?”

“Rhaegar, please calm down and sit down.”

He sat back on the couch.

“It isn’t your responsibility to stop anything. Planes crash all the time. Old couple get murdered in robberies all the time. Creeps kidnap little girls and get stopped by the police all the time. It can’t be more than a coincidence.”

“It can’t be a coincidence. The tiniest details that are too accurate… Look, I beg you, this is driving me crazy. I’ve been trying to put it out of my mind, but I can’t. I can’t help but feel responsible, or that I can help, while really, I can’t. Isn’t there a way to stop it? Some pills to help me sleep without dreams maybe?”

“I need to study your case for longer before I prescribe you anything. Those dreams are usually far apart, from my understanding, and the last one was today. This gives us some time to try and understand this better. And I promise you that I will. In the meantime, I want you to keep taking your meds, to live your life normally, but also I want you to engage with people more. Stay busy. Eat and sleep well. Have sex when you feel like it.”

“But I already do all that.”

“You do it because you have to. While doing it, your mind is on to a million other things, all but what you’re doing. I need you to stop repressing your thoughts and feelings and living on the inside. I need you to actually enjoy what you do. I think we may be on to another diagnosis… but, like I said, I need to study you better first. Until I see you next time, I need you to take this whole dreams coming true thing out of your mind completely and to live normally. Can you do that for you?”

* * *

They’d found a small Italian restaurant in an alley that seemed nice and cozy. Neither of them had liked noise, so clubs were out of the question, and they settled for that restaurant.

Mike was cutting his steak while Ray invented a story about his appointment and played with the penne in his plate with his fork. “She asked to know about my history with bipolar disorder. I told her everything. I told her about the meds that I take for it, about my life in Cali before coming here, my parents… everything.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but…” Mike was buttering a toast while asking, “Why had you gone to her in the first place? Things seem to be going well.”

“There’s been a lot of stress at work…” Ray started eating some pasta to give himself time to think. “My dad has started to talk about promoting me. I don’t want a promotion… I feel like it’ll be years before I’m ready, you know. He wants me to start running his business as soon as possible. We’re talking too much business to run for me personally. And he knows I haven’t been feeling very motivated or confrontational since…”

After seconds of silence, he told him about Hayley, sparing the dream.

“I’m so sorry to hear that. That’s terrible.” He poured them both wine and they toasted to her. While drinking, Ray thought about what Dr. Elia Desai said. _Stop living on the inside. Enjoy what you do_. He thought about whether or not he was doing that now… he wasn’t completely. He started to channel all of his focus on Mike, the food, the small talk…

“So,” Mike asked, “When did you realize that you’re bisexual?”

“Since I was somewhere younger than ten, I was equally attracted to boys and girls. I never registered it as something different than other people or gave it a label, I thought that was how everyone was. Until of course my parents gave me the talk, and they made it sound like heterosexuality was “the norm”. They were a little more than dumbfounded when they kept talking about girls, and then I asked, “okay, but what about boys?”

They both laughed. “After that, my first relationship in high school was with a boy. They had to make their peace with it. And you? Are you bi too? Pan? Gay?” Ray felt genuine curiosity. _Good. I’m not living on the inside. I’m channeling my feelings into the outside world._

“I’m bi too.”

They told each other tidbits about their past relationships, their family lives, their favorite readings… and Ray invited Mike to his library. “Everything I always haul from you guys and every other bookstore I can find, that’s where it all is.”

“I won’t be surprised if you’re talking about the library of Congress.”

They laughed. “So, can you get out of work tomorrow?”

“I can convince dad to give the shift to my someone else.”

Ray was confused. “Your dad?”

“Oh, you didn’t know. I’m taking care of family business too. You see, dad owns the bookstore.”

It was a surprise. “Wow, I didn’t know that! Wait… why is it called Williamson’s?”

“He bought it from the original owner when he went bankrupt and was going to close it down.”

The evening went well. After dinner, Ray drove Mike to his home. They exchanged phone numbers before Mike said goodbye.

At home, Ray fixed Sandy’s food, took a bath, took his meds and didn’t feel like sleeping yet, despite the long day. He thought about the date with Mike which went well, and Dr. Elia who seemed pretty young, probably in her late twenties to early thirties tops. Was seeing her going to help him at all? Does he even need a psychiatrist? Everyone he was going to see was going to discredit what he was saying, including her. He wondered what he could do about those dreams at all, and found himself pulling his hair pretty angrily while drying it in a towel. He brushed it and put it up in a bun to not wet his t-shirt. He then texted his best friend Arthur telling him about the day, and went to the library to check out the box he had picked up from the store earlier. Most of the books were pretty generic old editions of classics that he already had, but some piqued his interest. He opened the one he’d seen earlier, The Lullaby by Stephen Grey, sat on the couch and started reading. Some of the poems seemed like unorganized ramblings, but most were really good. When the beginning of a particular poem seemed uninteresting to him, he began to skip pages to get to the next one when something fell from the book into his lap.

It was a white card. Ray flipped it. It read, _“Please help me. I’m going to kill myself soon. If somebody finds this card before I do it, come to this address………. It may be a sign that something in me is worth saving.”_


	3. A Kiss or a Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains heavy suicide themes and a scene involving misogynistic language and violence. Proceed with caution!

The address where the writer lived was in the outskirts of the city, and was pretty scary in that time of night. Ray thanked God that his car was not very expensive (even though, that classic Chrysler was his pride and joy) and that he looked pretty beat up. His broad and tall frame also made him look like someone you shouldn’t mess with.

He looked for the building described… it was obviously old and had a dusty entrance. It had an elevator though, so he called it and when the door opened, he could smell the scents left by previous riders: Cheap perfumes, sweat, cigarettes… he entered, looked at the card, and clicked the “5” button. Half of the buttons were wiped off with time or had the plastic part of them completely fallen off.

His temper was beginning to rise, he was breathing heavily, agitated, but he felt the meds kicking in, and began to calm down. The elevator stopped, the door opened, and he stepped out. He looked at the card again… “Apartment 505” it said. He found it a couple of doors away. He took a deep breath, and pressed the doorbell.

He waited a minute. No one answered. His throat tightened… _am I too late?_

He pressed the doorbell again. Another 30 seconds… then he began to knock, somewhat violently. _Maybe I should have called the police instead… they would have been able to ram the door. Why didn’t I?_

Finally the door opened.

Music slipped into his ears. A steady beat. Some lyrics. “ _And we’ll never be royals, it don’t run in our blood…”_ The girl standing at the door was in her early to mid-twenties. She stared at him blankly. He didn’t give himself the chance to observe her beyond that.

“Are you the one who wrote this card?” He raised it in front of her eyes.

“Shit… you found my books?”

“Obviously. Are you okay?”

“Um… you might be too late in this regard.”

Fuck. “What did you do?”

“Sleeping pills.”

He found himself shaking her by the shoulders. “What sleeping pills? How many? How long ago?”

“Ambien. About… four? four pills. Ten minutes ago? I’m already feeling numb. The embrace of death…”

“Are you kidding me right now?” He found himself pushing her out of the door frame, and entering the apartment. As far as what little attention he gave it was concerned, it was actually pretty clean and cozy. He pulled her by the wrist, and looked for her kitchen. He found it easily. Everything else that he needed was pretty easy to find as well: He made a salt and water solution in a plastic cup he found by the sink, then took her by the wrist again, this time to the bathroom.

She was still blankly staring at him, even while he was a complete stranger breaking into her apartment. He pushed her head back and poured the solution into her mouth.

“Ew!” she swallowed and said, with a frown of disgust on her face.

“I know, right? Now get ready to be even more grossed out.”

He pushed her towards the toilet, and put his finger in her mouth, fingering her throat a little bit.

And it all came out, spilling into the toilet. She vomited multiple times. Finally he was assured that there was nothing left in her stomach. He turned to the sink and washed his hand.

“I hate to say this, but you suck at killing yourself. Don’t do this again. What an embarrassment. What’s your name?”

“Miriam. Ugh, I probably should have cut my throat or something…” her voice was shaky, and gurgling a little bit.

“Miriam, you don’t even fucking want to kill yourself. You don’t leave clues around for someone to come and save you and you sure as shit don’t take four Ambiens and think you’re surrendering into the embrace of death or whatever. You’re playing freaking pop music in the background. So calm down or I’m going to take you to a hospital and you’re going to get detained. Go and get dressed.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m not leaving you here alone after you just tried to kill yourself, or so you thought, are you crazy? Okay that might have been… the wrong choice of words…”

* * *

In the car, she had leaned her head on the window and slept, snoring a little bit. God, he so wanted to do the same now. When they arrived at the garage, he woke her up, even sprayed some water on her face… what would people think if they saw him drag a sleeping girl into his apartment in the middle of the night? He shuddered at the thought. But she did wake up, though still a little shaky, and climbed the elevator with him.

“Do I get to sleep where we’re going?”

“Honestly, the fact that you never even asked where we’re going is crazy to me. We’re going to my house. You’ll sleep in my bedroom because I haven’t got any other bedrooms.”

“Do I get to sleep with you?”

“What the fuck? No. I’ll sleep in the library.”

“Why do you have a fucking library in your apartment?”

“I’m a freak like that. Anyways, you sleep there and tomorrow I’ll call my psychiatrist to book you an appointment. I won’t feel okay letting you live alone until she’s assured you’re okay. If you can’t pay for the appointment…”

“I was getting evicted in a week.”

He sighed. “That’s okay then…” The elevator stopped, and the door opened. He walked to his door and opened it, then moved out of her way.

“Welcome. You first.”

She entered. “Wow. Are you like, super rich?”

“That’s the next thing I was going to say. I can pay for the appointment and see with my dad if you can rent something, on me…”

“Your dad?”

“He owns this building among many others.”

“Shit. Are you like Bruce Wayne?”

“Bruce Wayne’s parents are dead.”

“He’s also a rich guy who does some weird heroic stuff at night.”

“You’re not making any sense. Here’s the bedroom you’re going to sleep in. Here’s the bathroom… and you saw the kitchen outside. I’m actually going to sleep in the library over there and lock the door, and also lock the door of the apartment because I don’t know you, you could be a psychopath and rob me, kill me or both. Also do me a favor… I probably won’t be able to hide every single object that you could harm yourself with, but killing yourself in my apartment after I just saved your life (or, actually saved you from a very long sleep) is a really shit way of saying thank you. So, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Noted. Wow, why would I want to harm myself, this view is amazing.”

They were taking a tour while talking. Right now, they were in front of the bedroom window. The view of Seattle’s city lights at night was breath taking.

He finally got the chance to look at her carefully. She had wavy black hair that touched the middle of her back, and brown eyes. Her skin was fair but had a warm undertone to it. She was tall with a curvy figure. “What’s your full name?”

“The one on my ID? Miriam Aouni.” She pronounced the first letter with a throaty sound that he couldn’t pronounce, but was familiar. “Are you Arabian?”

“Yeah, I’m Lebanese.”

“My best friend Arthur is half Lebanese.”

“What’s his last name?”

“Dayne.”

“So, clearly not on the father’s side.”

He chuckled. “No, it’s his mum. Alright then, you can go back to sleep. I’m leaving.”

“Wait…” she said, and turned around to him. “Why are you doing all this? Why didn’t you just call the police, or just take me to a hospital?”

Ray bit his upper lip, and looked at the view, thinking, and back at her. “I don’t even know, I’ll have to think about it.”

* * *

Ray woke up on the couch to his phone ringing. He put a hand over his eyes to shield them from daylight, then turned around to pick up his phone. It was 12:32 pm.

“Ray?”

“Hello, Mike…” he scratched his head, and frowned. My hair must be a mess. “How are you doing?”

“I’m actually on my way to you, remember?”

“Uh… yeah…” _Shit._ “Um, listen, Mike, there’s something I need to tell you. I have a girl here.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like that, I swear, it’s a really long story. I didn’t even touch her. I mean, I did put my finger in her mouth, but…”

“Ray, slow down. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the girl who sold her books to you yesterday. She tried to kill herself. Look, it’s really a long story, just take my word for it, it’s not like that at… Whoa. What are you doing?”

Ray had gotten up and opened the library door, from where he could see the kitchen. Miriam was standing there, holding a knife.

“Pancakes! I found apples and caramel syrup and pancake mix in your fridge, so… I’m making pancakes! I’m just cutting the apples.”

“Oh, shit. Okay, Mike, look, I’m still waiting for you, just… know that there’s a girl here, and nothing happened between us at all, okay?”

“Okay. You can explain when I arrive.”

He hung up, and looked at her. She really was turning a pancake in a frying pan, and cutting an apple. She looked at him and said, “Who’s Mike?”

“A guy I’m seeing.” He was now looking at his phone again, finding the number of Dr. Desai’s office.

“Oh… you’re gay?”

“I’m bisexual. Hi, Dr. Elia Desai’s office? I wish to book an appointment as soon as possible for one Miriam Aouni.”

He was in luck. The secretary said a patient had cancelled at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. He gave him credit information, thanked him and hung up. “Your appointment is at three. I’ll drive you, or have someone drive you.”

“Oh, great, here are the terms of my probation forced by the rich, weird hottie. Food is done.”

He sat on the counter, and cut a slice off a pancake, then forked a slice of apple with it too, and ate. “For your information, you’re not forced to do anything. But if you go away from here, I’ll have to call a hospital. And by the way, I thought about what you said yesterday… about why I didn’t do that in the first place.”

“And?”

“It feels personal. I have your books. I took a peak into your thoughts. And more importantly, I’m a flawed human being and you piqued my interest. If your case was more serious than this, you would have been in a hospital by now but as it is, like I said, I don’t think you truly meant to kill yourself. It was a cry for help more than anything.”

The doorbell rang. It must be Mike, he thought. He opened it.

“You have thirty seconds to explain,” Mike said in a threatening tone.

Ray sighed and began to explain.

* * *

Mike offered to drive Miriam to her doctor’s appointment, then go back and pick her up, and he and Ray can go pick up lunch or do anything in between, and that’s the plan they went for.

Mike had accepted Ray’s explanation and not only that, but also felt concerned for Miriam. When they arrived at the doctor’s office, he wished her good luck before she left the car. She had left her phone at her apartment, so Ray gave her an extra one he had and told her to give them a call once she’s finished.

“Do you want to go pick up some Starbucks?” Mike asked. Ray answered him with a yes, but he was thinking of something else. He couldn’t understand what he was doing with Miriam. He life was enough of a mess as it was, and this was an unnecessary complication in his relationship with Mike. He couldn’t understand why he felt… _responsible._ He thought about the impropriety of her staying at his house and how he will have to talk to Dr. Elia to ensure that she’s not a danger to herself anymore, then he’ll pay his dad rent for her somewhere. Then a foreign thought in his head said that she’s beautiful. Grudgingly he thought that she was, but there was no place for that in his head.

He was pondering things in his mind and before he realized, they were at Starbucks. He ordered green tea while Mike got a frappucino. They took the drinks and went to a park. “Meadowbrook community park”, the sign said. They parked the car and went to sit on a bench.

“Have you slept well?” Mike asked with concern.

“I slept okay… I think I got a whole ten hours, I was exhausted. Hey… I’m so sorry about that whole Miriam thing. I found the card at midnight, and I honestly got terrified. I don’t know why I had to intervene myself, I tell myself it’s personal interest, but I think I get caught in things easily. I don’t know, there’s probably something else that is wrong with me,” Ray laughed nervously.

“No, honestly, that’s okay. I think she’s cool. And you feeling personally responsible… I probably wouldn’t if I were you, but I understand. You know, that’s how people differ from one another. There is no standard right behavior in many situations. What you did was right, but also detaching from it and just calling the police was right too. You know, sometimes I think…”

“You think?”

“That it’s easier for you to feel things. That whatever other people feel, you feel even stronger. But still you hide it and you pretend that you feel nothing.”

Ray’s heart skipped. This was true, and he never thought that anybody would notice. “How did you know that?”

“The way you told me about your family, your fiancée… you spoke so nonchalantly and it’s easy for someone who doesn’t observe pretty well to think that you have no feelings. But I can see in your eyes and the way you carry yourself that… you feel too much it hurts. Pretty much nothing you’ve ever experienced in your life hasn’t left a mark on you. A kiss or a scar.”

Ray’s heart filled with warmth. “Guess which one I want to give you right now,” he said.

“Gosh, hopefully not a scar.”

They both laughed, and they stopped laughing when their lips finally met. Mike’s mouth tasted like coffee, and the area around it was rough with facial hair… he didn’t mind it, it was pleasant. Ray didn’t know how long it was until they broke it off.

“That was nice. We should do it again sometimes,” Mike said. Ray chuckled and picked his green tea off the floor and took a sip. “How are things with your mum?”

The smile left Mike’s face. “Their divorce is getting messy. Dad doesn’t have the money to give her. You know, he might end up liquidating the bookstore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ray said. Then he got an idea. “You know… if your dad wants to do that, I might just buy it from him.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope. I can do that. I can invest what remains of my trust fund in it, and make it bigger. We’ll run it together. And then I still have my job in dad’s company… It’ll be okay.”

Mike seemed surprised and happy with the suggestion, but before he could talk, Ray’s phone rang. It was Miriam.

“Hey, it’s finished. I actually like this doctor, she’s super cool! She says I’m okay.”

“Can you give the phone to her please?”

“Ugh… no trust at all.” She took the phone off her ears, then gave it to the doctor.

“Ray. Hi. It’s only been one session and you’re already referring other patients to me,” she sounded amused.

“Yeah… I idolize you doctors like that. How is she?”

“She is fine. She just needs to get some change in her life, some help, love… you know. She isn’t really suicidal. She told me you said it was a cry for help, and she was right. You know, you should have just admitted her to a hospital, but… we’ll talk about you on our next scheduled session. In the meantime, I’m glad that you’re helping her out. You can come and pick her up now.”

* * *

As usual, Ray knew that he was dreaming.

It was Dr. Elia’s waiting room. He recognized it almost instantly. No patients were waiting. He looked up at a clock that was hung above the secretary’s head. It was 4:36 o’clock; he repeated in his mind. Everything seemed right, everything seemed peaceful. Then the glass door opened.

The man who entered seemed peaceful enough. He seemed to be asking the secretary nicely to see the doctor. Ray hadn’t anticipated it when he started screaming.

“Tell her to come out right now!”

At this point, Ray started to memorize his features. Tall, blond, pale skin, large, and he was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.

Elia came out of her office. Ray wanted to yell at her to go back in, but no voice came out.

The man started screaming again. “There she is. Now you and I are going to talk.”

“Get out of here.” Her voice was angry, but scared.

“No, you listen, bitch-“

“I’m calling security.”

And before Ray knew it, the man had held Elia by the shoulder, and slammed her against a wall. Ray saw the secretary get up, but the man punched him in the face, and he fell on the floor. The man turned back to Elia. “I’ll kill you, you fucking whore.”

He slapped her, then caught her neck, and slammed her head against the wall twice. She fell to the floor, unconscious. 


	4. To find comfort

Ray had kept pacing up and down the library from couch to door for 10 minutes now.

 _The good news is_ , he thought a gazillion times, trying to find a silver lining to the situation, _he knows what it takes this time. He knows the time, the place, the who, the how…_

4:36 pm in Dr. Desai’s office. He didn’t know what day, but it will be soon. It could be any day of the week; he knew she works weekends.

He went back to the details of the dream. _Did that jerk kill her?_ She looked like she _could_ be dead, or seriously injured, at least. The possibility scared him. And also the possibility that he couldn’t prevent his dreams from happening. He had never tried before because he had never had the means to do so, but even if he tried, can it be done? Or do those dreams have the power of fate that can’t be prevented? They were not self-fulfilling prophecy because it takes trying to prevent a prophecy for it to be self-fulfilling, but _is it preventable at all?_

He decided that tomorrow, he will call Dr. Desai in the morning to warn her, and see what comes out of it. She and that guy looked like they knew each other in the dream, so maybe if he described him exactly, up to and including what he was wearing, she’ll believe him and take it seriously. Until then, he didn’t know if he’ll be able to sleep again, so he decided to stay up and read, and maybe go fix a midnight snack for Sandy. He knew he’ll regret it in the morning, it being Monday and all, but he didn’t care.

When morning did come, he had a severe need for coffee. He left the library, and this time he had gotten up before Miriam, so he took a shower, fixed his hair, sneaked up while Miriam was asleep to get some clothes (wearing a towel), took them to the library and put them on, drank his coffee and left.

While in his car, he got voice mail from Arthur.

“Hey, man… you haven’t called all weekend, are you okay? Coming to work?”

 _Dude, if you only knew_ … Ray thought.

When he arrived to work, he took the elevator to his office in his dad’s skyscraper, saluting many people on the way. He walked a hallway, saluting even more people on the way, and finally opened the door to the waiting room of his dad’s office: A gigantic room furnished in all black and white, with two desks for two secretaries: Him and Arthur. They were side by side.

Ray sat on his, and looked at his best friend.

Arthur Dayne was the picture that came next to the textbook definition for tall, dark and handsome: He was athletic, stubbly, tan, with piercing dark brown eyes. He was Ray’s best friend since Harvard, and back in the day, he had won the university many medals. His white shirt looked somewhat too tight on his impressive biceps.

“To answer your question,” Ray said while Arthur was typing something to his computer, “I asked Mike Juarez out on a date, it went well. I went to my doctor’s appointment, it wasn’t a complete disaster, but of course she didn’t believe me. I bought some used books that turned out to belong to a hysterical girl who tried to kill herself with 4 Ambiens, I saved her “life” and now she’s staying in my apartment because she was about to get evicted. Mike and I kissed. And finally, I dreamed about my shrink getting attacked and probably killed in her office.”

Arthur was the only person in the world, besides Dr. Elia now, that Ray had told about the dreams. “Shit, man.”

“Yeah. Some loser is going to go to her office at 4:36 pm any day now, hit her, and slam her head against the wall twice. Which reminds me, I actually need to call her and warn her. Is dad here?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. If he arrives while I’m gone, tell him I’m in the restroom.”

Ray got up with his phone still in his pocket, and headed to his dad’s private restroom. In the cabinet, he dialed Dr. Elia’s office. Her secretary answered.

“Hi, this is Ray Daniels, I’m a patient of Dr. Elia’s. Can I talk to her in person? It’s a very important matter.”

“Just a moment.”

Ray tried to breathe steadily. He was about to try, for the first time, to prevent a dream from happening.

“Hello?”

He was so relieved to hear her voice. “Doctor, hi, it’s Ray. Listen, I need you to trust me with this. Do you know a guy who’s tall and large, blond, white and who has a reason to hate you? Probably attack you?”

She was silent for a moment. “You’re talking about Stephen. He’s some loser that I dated and then he started to show his true colors, so I got a restraining order on him.” Again, she was silent. “Did you…”

“I dreamed of him. He was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. He’s going to come into your office any day at 4:36 and attack you. To be specific, he’s going to start screaming, hold you against a wall, hit you and…” Ray swallowed. “He’ll slam your head against the wall twice, and you’ll fall unconscious.”

Her silence lasted for a long time, this time. It was almost painful to Ray, he was thinking about all the possibilities going into her head right now, and what if she decides to not believe him after all. Finally she answered. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll be on the lookout. Let’s hope you’re wrong, this time.”

“I sure hope so.”

She hung up. He left the cabinet, and looked at himself in the mirror.

The look in his eyes was panicking a little bit. His hair was tucked at the back of his head in a neat bun. He had forgotten to button the sleeves of his grey shirt so he buttoned them, and checked out if every other detail was perfect enough; they will have to be when he meets his dad. The thin black tie, the shiny shoes, everything was ironed to perfection. He got out of the restroom feeling slightly more ready to face the day.

His dad was outside, talking to Arthur. He turned around when he heard the restroom door close.

Richard Daniels was a good looking man even in his fifties. His hair was the exact same color as Ray’s, though his eyes were a lighter blue where Ray’s were a dark indigo. His facial hair was neatly limited to a fancy mustache and a light beard, the same color as his hair. He was tall with broad shoulders and a slender build, like Ray, and finally, his black suit put Ray’s attempt at being elegant to shame.

“Hey, dad,” Ray tried to make his tone as neutral as possible.

“Rhaegar. You look well. How is the stock market today?”

“Haven’t gotten a chance to check it out yet, I had to go to the bathroom as soon as I arrived. I’ll report to you in the office in a couple of minutes.”

“Good.” His father gave him two claps on the shoulder and went to his office.

The rest of the work day went smoothly, but as the clock was approaching 4:36, he was getting more and more nervous. _What if it’s today? What if she didn’t believe me? What if she now thinks I’m in league with that guy to make him attack her and make her believe me? And now she thinks that it’s all a hoax?_

His head was killing him with all the possibilities. When it was 3 pm, it was time for his medicine, so he grabbed a water bottle and took it. He hoped that it would make him feel better, but the more rational part of his head told him that his medicines don’t work on doubts and anxiousness, they simply stabilize his mood; they work on the highs and lows.

At 3:30 pm, he was looking at his clock, counting the seconds until it was 3:36. Exactly an hour from then. How long would it take from here to her office in rush hour traffic? Maybe 30 minutes?

At 3:45, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I have to go,” he told Arthur, got up and grabbed his jacket.

“Where?”

“Dude, my psychiatrist could be getting killed in precisely 51 minutes.”

“Could you at least wait until it’s 4? Then we’ll be able to ask your dad to leave. Until then go and find someone to cover for us.”

“Cover for us?”

“Yeah, you think I’m letting you go alone? That guy is probably mental.”

Grateful for Arthur’s help, he went out and found John, a guy who works at the reception who was hesitant at first, but then agreed to it when Ray offered 50$, and to talk to his boss.

When he went back to the office with John, it was already 4. He knocked and his father’s door, made up an excuse for him and Arthur and told him that there’s a guy who’ll cover up for them. His dad agreed, and outside he found Arthur giving him quick instructions on Richard’s meetings schedule. Then they both ran out to the garage. They took Arthur’s car; a fancy red sports car that was guaranteed to be faster.

On the road, Ray was breathing heavily, his knuckles white, and his eyes closed in prayer. He cursed every time they were stopped in traffic and Arthur would try to calm him down. It was a bit unusual for them; usually it’s Arthur who’s got the temper, and Ray who would try to calm him down.

When they finally arrived, it was 4:31. They were now parked outside the building that has the office in it.

“What do we do now?” he asked Arthur.

“We wait for him to show up.”

“But what if he’s already in the building?”

“I don’t think he would be. He’d probably come, take the elevator and be there immediately. Dude, you don’t even know that it’s today-“

“Shit, that’s him.”

Ray saw the guy from his dream. Tall, large, blond, with jeans and a sweatshirt. Arthur didn’t need a second cue. They left the car, and Ray heard it lock itself behind him; Arthur must have pressed the lock button on his key while they were running. When they arrived, the elevator had already gone up. There was only one.

“Oh, shit…” Ray cursed and took the stairs. Arthur was already running after him. The office was on the fifth floor.

When they arrived, panting, Ray pushed the glass door of the waiting room. He could hear Elia saying “I’m calling security” but that guy must have known, like she knows, that there _is_ _no_ security. When they finally arrived at the scene, that guy was holding Elia by the shoulder and about to push her to the wall.

Arthur put his arm around his neck and punched him with his other hand in the temple.

The guy fell to the floor. Ray found himself on top of him on the floor, punching him countless times. The guy must have tried to push Ray off him, that’s when Arthur stepped in again, kicking him in the side. Ray got up when the guy found himself overpowered and incapacitated and stopped trying to resist.

“Hold this piece of shit upright,” he heard Elia saying through her teeth. He looked up at her; she had tears of anger in her eyes. Then, without a word, he and Arthur did what she said.

“Your future is over, you asshole. That is, if you ever had one,” she said, balled her fist, and then punched him a final time, in the eye. “That’s for the good old days, remember?”

They locked him in the bathroom, and called the police. Arthur had asked Elia if she was okay, and then said, “The guy will probably be in jail for some time now. Not only is he in violation of a restraining order, but he’s now tried to assault you, and there are three witnesses,” he said with a side look to the frightened secretary who hadn’t moved from his place since the beginning. “Was your restraining order on him permanent?”

“Yeah. And thank you. For everything. Ray, you need a napkin.”

Ray’s knuckles were bloody from punching the guy in the teeth. “Thanks.”

“No, I should be thanking you. Ray, this whole dreams thing… I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Look at this.”

She handed him a newspaper. On the front, the main headline was about the crash of a certain company’s plane. “I googled their logo. It is red. It happened yesterday.”

With everything that had happened the day before, of course he had forgotten to check the newspapers. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ray. I had wanted to talk to you. There’s no appointment for you now, but as you can see, there’s no one else here, so, if you’d like to come into my office. And…”

She looked at Arthur, with a question. Ray hasn’t introduced them. He was too busy thinking about how his dreams did turn out to be preventable. The thought was comforting and gave him hope that maybe he can do something about it to save lives.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Arthur, this is Dr. Elia Desai, my psychiatrist. Dr. Desai, this is my friend Arthur.”

They shook hands, she thanked him hotly for the help, and so did Ray. “I’ve got to go home now; I’m exhausted. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Ray,” he said and left, after giving Elia one last concerned look.

Ray went after her to the office, and closed the door. She had leaned back on her desk, her arms crossed, and she threw her head back to take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” He was worried. She looked shaken still.

“The last thing a psychiatrist should do is let the patients in on their own mess. I’m so sorry that you had to see that.”

“It’s okay,” he said with sympathy. “I’m sorry that you had to endure that loser.”

“Thank you. Please sit down.”

He sat on the couch, and she sat behind her desk.

“There are two matters I want to discuss with you. First, I’m going to ask you some questions. I need you to get ready first.”

Ray closed his eyes, tried to clear his mind, prayed that he succeeded, and opened them up again.

“Number one. Do you sometimes find difficulties balancing your relationships? Can you sometimes have trouble with intimacy, can you get too clingy, or too detached, or find yourself pushing people away?”

He swallowed. “Yes. To all of that.”

“Number two. Do you pass through many situations where you get a fear of people abandoning you over something very normal that you have said or done, or what they may think of you?”

Again, she was describing him exactly. “Yes.”

“Number three. Do you have a problem with how you conceive people, where you either completely idolize them, or demonize them?”

“Yes.”

“Number four. Do you have a problem with your own self-image, where you can see yourself in conflicting ways, doubt your own abilities and your own conceptions?”

His mouth was dry now. “Yes.”

“Number five. Do you sometimes have an emotional reaction to situations that is stronger than what the situation merits? For example strong fits of anger, or paranoia, or shame?”

He swallowed, closed his eyes and nodded.

“Number six. When you don’t take your pills, or before you started taking them, would you have mood swings? Episodes of depression or excitement? And I’m talking, they last hours at a time instead of days.”

He remembered having those shorter episodes, and finding it strange because from what he had known about bipolar, those episodes tended to be long. He nodded again.

“Number seven. Do you sometimes tend to be impulsive? As in, behave in a way that doesn’t account for the results in the future? For example rash decisions, driving recklessly, spending money on impulse, binge eating, even substance abuse?”

He didn’t binge eat or abuse any substance, but he was guilty for the rest. He remembered what he did with Miriam, and his suggestion to buy Williamson’s bookstore out of the blue… again, he said “Yes.”

“Number eight. Again, before you took the pills… did you sometimes experience suicidal thoughts? Or a desire to self-harm? Be honest with me.”

He tried to go back with his memory to the days before the diagnosis with bipolar, to UCLA and even high school. “Yes.”

“Ray,” she said, “I need you to understand, Dr. Rolland did his best, but it’s very easy to mistake BPD for bipolar disorder. Patients with BPD sometimes find themselves unable to talk about their feelings, and that’s why if the psychiatrist suspects that BPD might be involved, it’s a good strategy to test in a yes-or-no questions format.”

“I don’t understand. BPD?”

“Borderline personality disorder.”

“Is that… better or worse?”

She tried to laugh, but failed, and instead gave an awkward smile. “There is no contest between different mental illnesses. There are some behavioral instructions I will give you, and also some meds. The meds you’ve already been taking for bipolar can help with the mood swings that accompany BPD too, albeit in smaller doses. But now on to the other thing. The dreams.”

Ray was seated on the edge of the couch. He found himself nodding for her to talk.

“After you left last time, I remembered something from back in college. From the days I was working on my PhD. One of my doctors had once told me that she had been doing research on the line that lies between our consciousness and what’s beyond. What’s in the… spiritual world, that is. What is beyond our present space and time.”

His heartbeat quickened. He was about to get answers.

“Of course she didn’t get much credit for this research and not even many people knew that she was doing it, but she said that she was finding some interesting stuff. Information, and even previous cases where said line was muddled. I will give you her name and you can go find her office in my university.”

“You won’t come with me?”

“I can’t really meet you outside this office. It’s inappropriate.”

“Great. Give me those instructions for my BPD, and from now on you’re fired.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, then she laughed. “Fine.” They heard a loud movement outside. “Oh, that must be the police.”

* * *

Before going home, Ray passed by a grocery store, and bought some stuff to make dinner, remembering that he had a guest. Maybe even a couple of guests, if Mike decided to drop by like Ray had asked him to do the day before. He also went to a drugstore to get the additional meds that Elia had prescribed.

When he opened the apartment’s door, he saw Miriam sitting on the chair in his living room, and Mike sitting on the couch opposite her. He was laughing about something.

“Hey, you guys… I didn’t know you were already here!”

“I’ve been here only about 20 minutes, and thought you’d be here soon so I’d rather wait for you than return later. Miriam was telling me about herself.”

“Oh great, now you know who I’m hosting before I do. How are you by the way?” He was putting the plastic bags on the kitchen counter and looking at Miriam now.

“I’m fine. I didn’t try to kill myself again if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Great. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

Ray had found a strange comfort in their presence. He was thinking while washing his hands that that is strange, because he’s only known Miriam for a couple of days. He still found her to be a pleasant person. And Mike… Mike was sweet, and serious, and sympathetic… someone he could rely upon. He had longed to find someone like that for so long.

He marinated the chicken breasts and pushed them into the oven, then set the potatoes in a pot with water and salt to boil. He washed his hands and went to sit with them, on the couch beside Mike.

Miriam was now talking about how she ended up alone and without money.

“After my parents passed away, they had pretty much saved nothing. And it’s not their fault because they were living on minimum wage. So I didn’t go to college, and I’ve been working in retail ever since. But I was recently fired for being late, which I’m not proud of, but I had overslept because of those sleeping pills, and yeah, that’s why I was getting evicted.”

“You should go get your things from there soon. Until we find you a place to stay, which will probably be soon, you’re welcome here.” Ray said. She thanked him.

Ray and Mike told her stories about themselves too. Ray found himself talking about his parents more profoundly. How he and his dad were not always in agreement but made their peace with each other, how his mum was always tender and accepting. Mike talked about his parents’ divorce. “Dad loved my mum very much, but she can be exhausting to the ones she loves. Sometimes I’m afraid I inherited that.”

The oven squeaked. Ray took out the chicken breasts on plates, mashed the potatoes with cream and butter and gravy, and finally added the sweet peas he had bought ready from the store. And they ate while sharing more stories.

After food came the champagne, and after that their conversation became even more relaxed.

“I used to think I would be in my thirties before I found someone like Ray,” Mike said.

Ray smiled and lay on the couch, resting his head on Mike’s thigh. He heard Miriam make a comment about how cute together they are, but he was already half gone.

He had only slept a couple of hours the previous night, the fact hit him as he found himself closing his eyes, and their voices became incomprehensible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits to http://www.bpddemystified.com/ for reference.


	5. The Touch

Ray, Elia, Arthur and the secretary finally got out of the police station where they had been to testify about the incident with Elia’s ex. From what the cops said, he was expected to be in jail for a long, long time. “Good riddance,” Arthur had said to that, and Elia reacted with a small smile that was still worried.

“What happens when he comes out though? He’ll want to get back at you,” Ray had said.

“I think until then I’ll have to change my address and the address of my office,” Elia replied neutrally.

“I think that will be wise,” the officer said at the suggestion.

“Some mistakes do cost us a lot,” Ray said. “If you need any help with the move you should probably call the guy who’s going to inherit, like, thousands of apartments.”

“Reckless spending, remember?” Elia warned him.

Ray rolled his eyes, but she didn’t see him, she was still looking at the floor.

“Hey,” Arthur said, and brushed her hand with his fingertips. It took Ray by surprise. When she looked at him in surprise too, he said, now looking into her eyes, “You’re going to be okay. You’re strong enough to take care of that jerk should he show up again.”

She smiled and thanked him, then continued to look at the floor for different reasons.

Ray was thankful for the fresh air when they got out.

On the pavement, Elia thanked them all, and Ray made sure to observe how warmly she and Arthur saluted very carefully. _If my shrink and my best friend start sleeping together, I want to know._

“Now,” she finally said to Ray, “You and I have a trip to make.”

* * *

Ray was pleased to know that Elia had studied in the University of Washington. That meant the trip was not long. On the road, they spoke about different things, like how his relationship with Mike was, how Miriam was, his cat, his father, work… they had finally arrived when it hit him that she wasn’t his psychiatrist anymore and other than having a bad ex, he knew nothing about her. _That’s what we’ll talk about on the way back._

“It’s 11:10 am. We’re 20 minutes early. Want to grab a coffee first?” Elia asked. He said yes, and she guided them to the cafeteria where they grabbed two Styrofoam cups filled with coffee, Ray’s creamy with a bit of sugar, hers black.

They walked to the building with Elia’s college in it, and took an elevator.

“You know,” Ray said, “I don’t even know that professor’s name.”

She guffawed. “Her name is Dr. Vivica Hart. And you should be as honest with her as you were with me. She won’t judge; she’s been looking for someone like you to talk to in person. She was pretty thrilled when I told her.”

“Does she have an answer though, something more than wanting to hear my story for her research?”

“She said she may have one.”

“You know… sometimes I worry you may think I’m selfish. We’ve already seen that my ability can save someone, but I want to get rid of it. In most cases it was useless. Yours was the first time it actually did some good, other than that all it caused was making my life miserable.”

“No, I understand. Even if it can save lives, Ray, it is unfair to you. No human should have to bear a burden like that… knowing what’s coming and feeling responsible to prevent it. That’s an ability that should be reserved for gods… and monsters.”

The elevator opened at the word.

They walked an elegant hallway, and Ray’s heart was racing now, and his stomach dropped. _Was he really about to get answers?_

They made sure to drain their coffee cups and throw them in the nearest bin before knocking on the door with Dr. Vivica Hart’s name on it.

“Come in,” they heard her voice.

Elia opened the door, and he was following her. He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined her warm smile as the professor smiled too, they greeted hotly and hugged. Ray smiled at the professor politely as he shook her hand and Elia introduced them.

Dr. Hart was a black woman, younger than he had expected; about her mid-forties. She wore her hair naturally; closely cropped and curly, black like ebony. She was dressed elegantly in a fit black dress and a white blazer.

“Please be seated,” she said. Ray and Elia sat on a small burgundy couch that was opposed by two chairs of the same color. Dr. Hart sat in one of them.

“Let’s get right into it,” she said. “Ray, Elia told me about your dreams and how she saw proof of them coming to life. I won’t waste your time with showing me proof; I know that something like that is possible.”

“You do?” Ray was surprised.

“I do indeed. You see, I’ve now spent ten years of my life researching this. Among some other researches; you know, the public ones.” She laughed, and Ray laughed with her nervously.

“I believe that the spiritual exists. I believe that our materialism is not the only part of our existence. I believe that we are souls before we are bodies, and there are limits to what we can do and witness, but you see, there are times when the limit was broached.

“I’ve met individuals who had cases similar to yours. The most common case I’ve met is people who have a link to their ancestors, where they dream, or even separate from reality while awake, and see said ancestors during situations that happened to them. Those individuals would have no knowledge of said ancestor at all or that situation, but upon some inspection, they would find that that did happen. Such a connection makes sense more than the others, I guess; those people would be tied to their ancestors by their DNA.

“Some other cases, though more rare, included visions of the present happening elsewhere, or visions of the past, though unrelated to anyone from their family. And again, upon inspection, it would turn out that their visions were indeed from life.

“You, Ray, are the first case of its kind. Visions of the future, no less, and mostly of events that matter. You see, those people I spoke of would see some trivial life events, some details from a person’s life like a day they spent with a loved one or a party they attended or a meal they had, but you seem to be only sensitive to important events, and sadly, bad ones at that.

“When we get down to the root of this, where it originated, at what point it was triggered… all individuals I’ve met before agreed on one thing: Those dreams or visions started right after a cataclysmic event in their lives, in most cases, a near-death experience in fact. It seems to be that once your soul is in touch with the spiritual world, it comes back with a bit of what it has to offer. Can you tell me when this started?”

Ray cleared his throat and his mind to answer. “It started right before my fiancée, Hayley, died in an accident.”

“But nothing happened before that? You didn’t go through any traumatic or near-death experience?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“Interesting.”

Dr. Hart was silent for a moment and seemed to be thinking. Then she looked at him like she had an idea.

“Ray… do you remember precisely what happened the night you dreamed of that? Or before? Is there a blank period in your memory where you don’t recall anything specific happening?”

On his side, Elia started fidgeting, waiting for his answer, like she knew what her professor was thinking. He tried to think. He remembered being busy studying, spending time with Hayley, severe mood swings that were mostly depressive…

“The day that Hayley left…” he said, trying to recall… “I remember her leaving, then me having the dream. Everything in between seems… muddled. I don’t remember having done anything specific. I must have gone to bed right after she left, but… she left in the afternoon. How come I slept in the afternoon? I remember this because I found it odd.”

“Ray… something may have happened to you that day. You may have almost had heart failure. You may have gone through a traumatic situation. You may have gotten attacked. The main thing here is that it’s very possible that you have-“

“Amnesia,” Elia interrupted her.

He looked at Elia then at Dr. Hart. The latter nodded.

“Elia tells me you have BPD. With the depressive mood that accompanies it, something like that is likely. I don’t think it can be a coincidence that one day seems to be blank in your memory, then you have suddenly gained the ability to foresee the future.”

“But how can I get rid of it?”

She looked at him sympathetically for a moment. “I understand that you want to get rid of it as soon as possible. No one should have such an ability. I believe that like the disease (which I call The Touch) originates from the spiritual world, the cure must as well. I’m currently working with one of the individuals I’ve told you about on different types of therapy trying to find a cure. So far there seems to be very little progress that we can make without endangering their life, but like I said, we can start from where it all originated. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, believe me I am, but I’m trying my best to find a cure and as soon as I find something, you’ll know. Elia and I will be in touch.”

* * *

On the road, Ray tried to hide how shattered he was by asking Elia about her life. She would answer without enthusiasm. In the end, she finally cracked and asked, “Shit, Ray, are you okay?”

He shrugged. “I just forgot to take my meds.”

“Do you have them on you now?”

“No. Don’t worry, I’ll take them as soon as I get home.”

“Look, we need to investigate into what really happened to you that day that triggered the ability.”

“What would it matter?” He tried to make his tone neutral.

“It would matter because while she does her experimenting, you and I can as well. We need to understand what started this in order to start our therapy to begin with. We should probably go where this all happened and ask people who could have witnessed something.”

“This all happened back in UCLA. Are you telling me you don’t mind flying to California because my head hurts?”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Elia, you’re not even getting paid for this. At least you should be.”

“No, I’m not. We’re friends by now and like you said, I’m not your psychiatrist anymore.”

“Fine. But if we do go to Cali, all trip expenses are on me. Okay? All of them.”

“Unless I want to go shopping…” she said in a low voice.

“Unless you want to go shopping.” He agreed, though he wouldn’t have minded paying for that either. Suddenly things felt a little better.

* * *

At home, Ray entered his room to get clothes, and couldn’t find Miriam, so he changed before going outside to look for her. When he didn’t find her anywhere, he assumed she went out or was at the library; she had picked up her things from her old apartment that morning, so he had no reason to suspect anything bad. Before he looked for her any further, he took his meds, put some food in Sandy’s plate and water in her bowl, and when she came to eat, she rubbed her head against his leg first. He leaned to pat her head, and then left to the library.

Miriam had her back to him. She was looking at one of his shelves for something. When she heard him come in, without turning back, she said, “You know, I take it back about finding you having a library in your apartment weird. This whole place is fucking awesome. I mean, shit, how old is this one?” She turned back to him holding a copy of The Great Gatsby.

“The twenties. Original time of publication. Mike’s bookstore is impressive.”

“Wow. And I thought my collection of books was good.”

“You can have them back by the way. And of course I trust you with books, so as long as you’re here, you’re welcome to browse through my entire collection.”

“Oh, that actually reminds me…” she moved from the shelf she was browsing to another. “I was going to ask you for a better proposition than you paying for my rent and my therapy and my entire life until God knows what happens because I feel like a total gold digger without doing any actual digging, so to speak. I was thinking you should lend me money to go to some inexpensive college, maybe even a community one, then once I’m employed, I’ll pay you back all of it.”

Ray didn’t need to think about it. “That’s a good idea. Which college do you want to go to? Have you thought of a major?”

“I don’t know, I can draw, I like reading, but obviously none of that is going to pay you back, so…”

“You can draw?”

“Yeah. Actually now I think I can set up an online store to sell digital versions of my paintings or something.”

“I’d like to see those sometimes. Anyways… major?”

“Ah, yes. I don’t like med, or law, or engineering… so, I don’t know, business? Management, maybe? Public relations?”

“Those are all good. I can actually hire you if you get good at those. And what college?”

“Something within the city, preferably.” She moved to another shelf.

“University of Washington?” It was, naturally, the first to come to his head.

“Maybe, if it’s not too expensive. I’m twenty two, anyways, do you think they’ll accept me in undergrad?”

“They may.” Ray was browsing the shelf that she was at this point.

“Ugh. You read Twilight?”

“Hey. I was a teenager once, okay? And besides, aside from the sappy love story, it actually has some good characters.”

“Hmm. Is that Russian literature?”

“Best instrument of self-torture. In the good way.”

“Harry Potter?”

“I’m a Ravenclaw, you?”

“A mix of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. And of course I know you’re a Ravenclaw; look at this freaking library.” She then turned to him suddenly. “What’s your favorite book?” she asked dramatically.

They were now standing pretty close to each other; it was the first time Ray had noticed.

“Wow… just the one? Out of all this stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, maybe… Great Expectations? Les Miserables? I honestly don’t know. And yours?”

“Probably something by Poe.”

“You’re into horror?”

“I am. I mean look at me.”

They both chuckled. Then she went to look at another shelf.

“Yesterday Mike told me…” she was hesitant.

“Mike told you?”

“About your fiancée. And bipolar disorder.”

“He did?” Ray was a little agitated.

“He did. Look, you saw me in my most vulnerable. You came into my apartment while I saw falling asleep from sleeping pills and you could have done anything to me, and instead you fingered my mouth to save me. I mean I wasn’t even in actual danger but… the point is, you don’t get to be mad that I know about that because now we’re even. We’re both fucked up.”

Ray sighed. “You know, I’ve recently learned that it’s not even bipolar disorder. It’s BPD.”

“And are you okay?”

“I’m taking meds. And I’ve yet to tell Mike about that; last night I was too exhausted.”

“Sometimes it feels to me like you’re really trying to be solid. Like… you’re trying to make people think you’re solid rock. Shit, all that repressing of feelings… are you okay? Truly, are you okay?”

“I don’t even know.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to let those feelings erupt out into the world. It’s going to be good for your mental health. Stop trying to take care of everyone else.”

She turned to him. He was standing behind her now.

“Let’s exercise. What are you thinking right now?”

In the light of the shy Seattle sun streaming from the glass wall, her skin was golden. Her coal colored hair was absorbing all the light that fell on it and was darker than anything Ray had ever seen. The soft curves of her body, of her lips…

“I’m thinking… that it’s making me uncomfortable that I fingered your throat a couple of days ago and now you’re giving me mental health advice.”

“You’re lying.”

That was easy to see, Ray assumed. But he didn’t have time to think about anything else; because in a split second, she had pushed him back towards a shelf and was kissing him. He was frozen for a moment, but after that, it was not that difficult to let go.

* * *

He was back in UCLA.

It was the yard. He could see the gates of more than one building where he was standing. The closer one was the Powell Library… the name was familiar. Kids were studying on the grass, playing volleyball, a few couples were walking or doing things together. But as always, Ray was here to see one specific thing.

It wasn’t long before he was moving closer towards the building opposing the library. He was familiar with it, of course; it was the Humanities building that had his college in it. At the beginning, he didn’t know what he was here for, but soon, he knew.

There was one kid who was entering the building. He looked like he was in his early twenties. He had light brown hair, pale skin, and he was generally tall and skinny, and wearing jeans, a black backpack and a blue plaid shirt. Ray now knew this will be important; he found himself moving even closer to the guy, studying his features well to be able to pull them from memory; a long face; thin long nose; thin lips; big blue eyes; a mole on his left cheek; acne…

The guy entered the building, with Ray after him. He was looking around, acting suspicious, looking for something but also trying to hide. A few students were walking down the hallway; those of them that noticed his behavior looked at him suspiciously. He stopped to look at a few announcements that were hung on a notice board, and looked like he was only pretending to read them, stalling, waiting for something…

A few lectures ended, and students started to come out. That’s when the guy took a deep breath, grabbed his backpack, and took out the rifle.


	6. Broken Glass

For the first time in years, Ray was feeling sick to his stomach.

His diet was considerably healthy, his sleep was regular, he was doing okay with taking the meds on time, he rarely got drunk and never enough for a hangover. But that’s what tends to happen the next day after you’ve discovered that something wrong with your mind has no known cure, kissed a girl when you have a boyfriend, and finally dreamed of a mass shooting that you know is going to come true.

He ran from his couch to the bathroom as fast as he could, fell on his knees threw up everything he’d eaten the previous day (not much) into the toilet. After that he could barely get up to the sink to drink some water, then fell to the floor again, this time resting his back on the cold bathroom wall.

_October 12, 1:30 PM. October 12, 1:30 PM. October 12, 1:30 PM. October…_

He didn’t want to forget it. It was the most important thing. Date, time, place… but the place is unforgettable. He had paced those halls, studied with Hayley in the Powell Library, held her hand during lectures under the bench while listening to the lecturer read from Blake, or Wordsworth, or Shakespeare…

_Mike. I kissed Miriam. I shouldn’t have._

Ray found himself finally starting to face his feelings. He really likes Mike; he’s liked Mike for a while. It might even be love. And Miriam… Miriam made him feel weird. Their whole situation together was weird and improper, but the way she made him feel… he would probably consider it normal, just an attraction, if it weren’t for Mike. Why is he attracted to them both? How is it possible?

 _It’s possible,_ he told himself. _I’ve heard of it before. It’s called-_

“Ray?” Miriam was standing in the door frame. She sounded concerned. Ray looked at her lazily, in plain exhaustion. _God, I bet I look horrible._ “I’m okay. I just got sick.”

“Can I get you something?”

“Uh… maybe just…a lemon seltzer?”

She went out to do it. He thought that it’s pretty early to judge his feelings for Miriam, he was pretty sure it was an attraction of a romantic nature, but was it as strong as his feelings for Mike or as serious?   _In any case, Mike needs to know._

And then he thought, _over 50 students and staff are getting shot in days and you’re worried about your stupid love life?_

Miriam entered the bathroom with a cup filled with lemon seltzer. He could also glimpse some green particles in it. “I added some peppermint. Maybe this would help.”

She leaned over him and gave him the cup. He downed it all at once, then leaned his head back on the wall.

“Miriam… I’m so tired. I wish I could stop sleeping altogether.”

“You know, normally when people are tired what they want to do is _start_ sleeping.” He looked up at her. Her features carried genuine concern. “I wish I could understand what is wrong with you. I wish I could help like you helped me. What happened yesterday, by the way… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the way of you and Mike. I really like Mike, he’s such a cool guy, and your relationship is amazing. Just… forget it ever happened. It was just stupid me being dumb, again.”

He sighed. “I need to talk to you both. Can you bring me my phone, please?”

“Sure. But better yet, I can help you get up.”

She gave him her hands. He held them, and they helped pull him up.

“You’re heavier than you look.”

“I’m 6’3.”

He walked back to the library where his phone was on the floor. But instead of calling Mike, he sent out three texts to three people, then looked up at Miriam from the couch.

“He’s coming, along with other people. But first there’s something I want you to know.”

“What is it?”

“I think I like you. I am undeniably, irrationally attracted to you. But I also like and may even love Mike. I need you to know that, and he will know that as well. But if you don’t like me back and we don’t have a chance at anything, then what’s the use of this whole thing? So, I want to know your answer to that.”

“Whether I like you? I’m sorry, I need to process what you said first.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and crossed her arms. “I do like you. I just don’t want to come in the way of a potentially great thing that you could have with Mike. Okay?”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. It will all be up to you two. But until they come, I think I’m going to catch a nap. Wake me up when they’re here.”

But it was Mike who woke him up. He was playing with his hair, calling his name gently… when Ray opened his eyes to Mike’s, he felt like shit.

“Hey Mike…” he sighed and closed his eyes strongly. “Did you know I’m a piece of shit?”

“What? What happened?”

“There are so many things I need to tell you that I never did. Are the others here?”

“Elia is here. She’s really nice, actually.”

“Yeah, she is… Arthur should be here any minute now.”

Ray got up with Mike and went to change his clothes into something more appropriate. He ended up with black jeans and a white shirt that needed to be ironed, washed his face, and brushed his hair hastily. Only afterwards he felt presentable enough to go greet Elia. A minute later, the doorbell rang. It was Arthur.

When they were all seated around him, Ray had a strange feeling of being with family. But it wasn’t the time for being emotional. He cleared his throat before he started.

“Okay… everyone here now, there are things I need to tell you. First off, Mike, I need to talk about our relationship. This isn’t a romantic conversation, it’s all about consent. And Elia and Arthur are the two people in the world who know everything there is to know about me, so it’s okay that they hear this too, in fact Elia may be of great help.”

Elia nodded. Mike’s eyes widened to show attention. They were gorgeous, he noted, but he told himself not to get distracted.

“Mike… I really like you. I’m even asking myself if this is love considering that we’ve only dated for a very short time. I think we’re on to something serious. But now there’s Miriam, and, as I’ve told her this morning, as far as I can tell, I’m also really attracted to her. And it’s not just about intrigue… she feels like a part of my life, now; of myself. As part on my research on my sexuality before, I read about this.”

“Ray…” Elia said… “Were you ever polyamorous before?”

He shook his head. “This is the first time. Does that negate it? Does that mean that my feelings for one of them are invalid?”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “People put relationships and sexuality in molds too much. We’re not molds; we’re human beings. No feelings are ever invalid; misunderstood, sometimes, but not invalid.”

He gave her a small smile, then turned to Mike. He was still looking at him, listening before judging. He loved that about him. “So… I wanted to tell both of you in order to make your decision. This could work as the three of us together in one relationship, loyal to each other, exclusive. But if either of you two felt like they don’t want to be a part of this, or that it’s too complicated for them, it’s okay to not accept it, I completely understand. And Mike, the reason I said that I’m a piece of shit is because yesterday… Miriam and I kissed. I shouldn’t have done anything romantic with her before telling you, and I’m sorry. If you want to leave me for that… say something, please.”

Mike took a deep breath, and finally spoke.

“Ray, I don’t think you understand. I’m not going to let go of you for that. I do fully consent to us having a polyamorous relationship. I like Miriam enough to be in a relationship with her too,” He shrugged.

Ray finally breathed easy. They were now both looking at Miriam.

“I like you both. I’m willing to start a new life with you. I consent too.”

“Thank you. To both of you. I appreciate that you’re willing to become a part of this mess that is my life. You see, this is not even the bad part.” _One problem is now solved… let the worse one begin._

He told Miriam and Mike about the dreams. About everything that Elia and Arthur know, up to their conversation with Dr. Vivica Hart, which Arthur hadn’t heard yet. And then he proceeded to tell them about what none of them had known yet.

“Last night’s dream… a shooting in UCLA. The Humanities building, where my college is. _Was_. Over 50 dead students and staff, a guy with a rifle and guns.” He told them the description and the date and time that he had seen in a dead student’s phone that fell on the ground. It was in a week.

“Shit,” Miriam said, wide eyed.

“No kidding,” Mike said. Rational Mike who was rarely phased, was now covering his face with his hands.

“We have to do something about it. Calling the authorities will not do any good because they’ll never believe us and we might even get arrested. I was going to go to UCLA anyways to figure out what happened the day I dreamed of Hayley’s accident, I should buy a taser or something and get him from behind once he takes the rifle out.”

“Okay,” Elia said, “First off, I was going to come with you from the beginning to figure out this whole amnesia thing. Second, how do you know you’ll be able to restrain that guy on your own? You said he had many guns.”

Ray recalled some of the details. Again, they were sickening. The guy had 3 guns including that rifle, and extra ammunition. He wondered what kind of hate a person could experience to want to kill so many people. The guy had to be restrained by 6 security guards before the police arrived, some of them he injured, and he had to be shot in the leg and tased before they were able to incapacitate him.

“I can get the attention of campus security, tell them I saw some weird guy who looked suspicious, and okay, you can come with me to inspect about the amnesia, but if you think I’ll let you enter campus with me while that guy is there, you’re out of your mind.”

“There’s no “letting me”, I can do what I want. I’m coming with you.”

“Me too. You think I’d let you do this alone?” Arthur said in a very final tone. _Of course._

“And I pretty much owe you my life,” Miriam said,” I won’t let you endanger yours without being there with you to make sure you’re not acting too stupid.”

“And I don’t care what you think, I won’t let you go alone either,” said Mike.

Ray was facepalming. “Okay, hold the fuck up. This isn’t Coachella. Some psycho is going to shoot over 50 people in cold blood and you guys think I’ll let you come? What, we’re going to stream in in slow motion wearing black suits too?”

“You don’t get to make the decision of whether or not we come,” said Miriam stubbornly. “From what I can tell from Arthur’s abs, he’s probably an Olympic or something. Elia has been through one battle with a sociopath and she can probably deal with another. And Mike and I just started officially being in a relationship with you, do you think we’ll just let you deal with that asshole alone? You don’t get to decide. I want to save some lives if I can, as I’m sure they do as well.”

“This is just insane,” Ray muttered. The idea of endangering the lives of these people made him sick.

“Look, rationally and realistically,” Elia said, “it’s not like we’ll be standing in the guy’s crossfire and daring him to shoot. We’ll make a plan, survey the place well, decide which one of us is to approach him first and tackle him and then the rest come in to incapacitate him… et cetera. Together we actually have a better chance at stopping him before anybody’s injured and coming out all safe too. You alone can end up seriously injured, or worse.”

“Elia is right,” Mike said, his voice still rational and steady. “There’s absolutely no chance we’re letting you stop that guy alone. Just sit back and accept that we’re coming with you.”

“Man, I’ve wanted to kick some ass for a while now…” Arthur was smiling mischievously, balling one fist and holding it with the other hand.

“Arthur, you just kicked ass a couple of days ago in my office.” Elia noted.

“That guy was too weak though, I need a real challenge.”

Ray sighed loudly and closed his eyes.

* * *

The flight to California was pretty calm.

The plane took off from Seattle at 7 a.m. on October 8. Elia had changed the terms of the deal and refused to let Ray pay for her ticket because now he wasn’t the prime reason they were going to California anymore, and because he now had to pay for Miriam instead.

Ray leaned his head on the oval glass window while the others listened to music or read a magazine or typed something on an iPad, and he closed his eyes in deep thought.

He had made sure to let Mike and Miriam know how he felt about them, especially, coming.

“Elia was going to come with me before the whole dream thing, and when the time comes, I can convince her to stay away. Arthur is a professional athlete and if any of us has the chance to single-handedly take the guy down, it’s him, but with my help it’s even better. But you guys—“

“I’m not leaving you alone, and Miriam has made her decision as well. Anything we’re in, from now on, we’re in it together, all three of us, or we’re not at all.”

“But did you consider how I’ll feel if something happened to either of you?”

“And did you consider it vice versa?”

All in all, Ray had completely failed to convince any of them to stay in Seattle. He was beginning to regret telling them about the dream at all.

He thought about the whole polyamory thing, and how its nuances are still new for him. He was having difficulty understanding Mike’s and Miriam’s feelings. They had consented; but were they jealous of each other? Did they like each other too? Did they simply not mind each other’s presence? He’d find a time to ask them, later. And more importantly, he’ll have time to discuss with them what their relationship will mean for each of their futures.

Then he thought about what he could potentially find out happened the day he dreamed of the accident. Had he been through his own accident? And if he had been in some sort of accident that had led to a near-death experience, wouldn’t there be physical signs on his body? How… just how did that end up happening to him? What kind of sick joke was the universe playing to make him at the center of a bunch of fucked up prophecies?

And finally, he considered what would happen if something bad should actually happen in UCLA.

He had left Sandy in the care of his mother, and his dad would probably have to donate his fortune to charities since he has no other heirs (unless of course he was cheating on his mum and had a secret lovechild somewhere which, he hoped not.) He started to think how much better the world would be without him and how much simpler things would be if he just _went to sleep forever._

 _I forgot to take the meds._ He called a flight attendant and asked for a glass of water.

When they arrived in California, they took two cabs to their hotel. The others had wanted to stay in a four star hotel that was cheaper, and Ray found it okay, it was a pleasant place with a nice view of LA. On the road, he had closed his eyes and smelled the city’s air as he recalled all the times he and Hayley had driven on those roads with the palm trees on each side. From the hotel room’s window, he could still see the palm trees. The room itself was clean, furnished in a modern style, generic. Each of the five had gotten a single room. That gave Ray the time to be alone and think farther of everything that had occupied his mind on the airplane. In an hour or so, someone knocked on his door. He opened it; it was Miriam.

“Hey! This hotel is so nice. Thank you for paying for my room. I’m going to pay you back for everything once I’m rich.” She had entered the room and lay on his bed. He noticed a sketch and pencil in her hand.

“We’re in a relationship now, so I don’t think you have to… anyways, what are you doing here?” he lay on the bed next to her.

“I was thinking, you can tell me the description of the shooter and I can draw a sketch of him. That can make things easier for the rest of us. Because the way you described him… he sounds like a very generic college student.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Ray was surprised, but then he felt guilty because he knew she was smart. They spent the next half an hour or so at the coffee table, with Ray describing the guy and Miriam drawing him, making the occasional corrections that Ray made. In the end, the result was immaculate.

“You’re actually good at this,” Ray said.

“It’s the only thing I’m good at, I’m afraid. Now I’m going to go and photocopy it to distribute it to the rest.” They had marked the guy’s clothes and coloring by arrows and words; she could have found colors, but they were useless in photocopying anyways.

Moments after Miriam went away, there was a knock on his door again, but this time it was Elia.

“Ready to go?”

He swallowed and wondered, again, what they would find out. He nodded.

* * *

The apartment where Ray had lived with Hayley was pretty close to campus. It wasn’t difficult to remember directions to tell the cab, but it was difficult to shake the unease he felt.

“Relax,” Elia whispered, and held his hand. “You will be alright. This will help. I promise. Do you know someone there who might help?”

“The doorman. He’s was an old man, I think his name was Bill. He kept track of who entered the building and who went out. Let’s just hope to God that he remembers. If there was an accident or something like that, it should be memorable, right?”

“Depends. You’re a pretty introverted person, if you kept it private and no one had a way of knowing… well, let’s hope that’s not true.”

They arrived at the building, paid the cab driver and got out of the car. Ray took a look at the building where he used to live the last 2 years he was studying in UCLA.

It was an old style building, with a European, Mediterranean feel to it. He had gone to Italy once with his parents when he was a kid; this looked like some of their buildings. It was painted white, the fences on the balconies were made of ironwork, and most of them had pots of flowers or plants.

Cliché as it was, he would have paid his entire fortune to get back there.

At the entrance, there was a small desk with an old man seated behind it, sipping tea, reading a book. When they entered, he looked up.

_Bill. Oh, thank God._

Bill was your typical old, white man with gray hair and a gray mustache. He was even wearing old, baggy jeans and a sweater. When he looked at them, he was silent for a moment, and then he smiled warmly. “Oh. Mr. Daniels!”

“Hi, Bill, how is it going?”

Bill laughed, and got up from behind his desk. He stood up in front of Ray and shook his hand. “It’s been fine. How have you been? Have you decided it was too cold in Seattle and it’s time to get back here?”

“Oh, I wish I could. This is my friend Elia.”

“Hello, young lady,” he shook Elia’s hand, still smiling. She smiled back at him.

“Look, Bill,” Ray said, with a more serious tone, “I need to talk to you. Can we get inside?” Bill had a small room the door of which was behind his desk. He would sometimes be in it, but he would leave the door open to still take note of who was entering or leaving.

“Sure. Come in.”

He went and opened the door for them to enter before him. His room smelled slightly of dust, but it was clean. His bed was made, and he had a table, a chair and an old TV. Ray could also see another small door that had to be a bathroom.

“As you can see I only have one chair, so please sit on the bed.”

Ray and Elia sat. His heart started racing. Bill was sitting facing them, on his chair.

Ray swallowed and started. “Do you remember the day of Hayley’s accident? The twentieth of April, four years ago?”

Bill’s smile disappeared. “Oh, sadly, I still do.”

“Did anything happen before that that was strange? To me, that is?”

“You see,” Elia said, “I used to be Ray’s psychiatrist, and he and I suspect that he has amnesia. That something unusual of some sorts happened to him a couple of days before the accident, only problem is, he doesn’t remember what.”

Bill’s face now carried a sorrowed expression. “You… you don’t remember?”

A knot formed in Ray’s throat. “Remember what?”

“I tried to bring you a package that you had received, and you didn’t answer the door. It was suspicious because I knew you were inside, but I thought maybe you were sleeping. Ten minutes later, the people in the flat under yours called me and were concerned because they heard a strong falling noise, along with glass breaking. I knocked again, you didn’t answer. This time I asked for help breaking down your door. I called on your neighbor, Dr. Jennings, for help, and he gave you first aid, but you still had to be taken to a hospital, so we took you. You had also broken a glass and cut yourself in the leg when you fell.”

Ray swallowed. “I don’t understand. What had happened to me exactly?” his voice was shaking.

“Young man, you took a whole container of sleeping pills. You tried to kill yourself.” 


	7. The Man Behind the Gun

“I held her hand as she died. Elia…”

“Ray, I don’t think that happened.” Elia’s expression was mortified, and she was whispering. “According to the doorman, you were in the hospital for four days. You couldn’t have gone to the one where she died.”

“I… I didn’t warn her either.”

They were whispering to each other in the backseat of a cab. Elia had told the driver to take them to the nearest coffee shop because Ray clearly hadn’t been ready to face the others yet.

“I didn’t call to warn her, Elia. I couldn’t have, could I? I was unconscious for at least 24 hours after I took the pills, and after that, I was detained in the hospital. And she died before I woke up anyway.”

Elia sighed. “I believe this is why your brain erased the memory of your suicide attempt and made up other memories. You blamed yourself for not being able to warn her and for not being there with her while she died. The pain was overwhelming to your brain; one that was already depressed. So, instead of a suicide attempt and a coma… you were just taking a nap when you dreamed of the accident, you called to warn her, and she died by your side. I’m so sorry, Ray. Maybe we shouldn’t have pursued the truth after all.”

He rested his head on the seat in front of him. “That’s all my life is… one mistake after the other.”

“I’m taking you to get a herbal tea and maybe a cookie or something. After that, when we go back to the hotel, I want you to take your meds and sleep. Don’t think about it. Ray… it wasn’t your fault, you know that. You’re too smart to think otherwise.”

_I’m not so sure about anything anymore._

* * *

At the hotel, Ray tried to do what Elia said. He took his meds, ordered a tea and tried to relax and not think. He even started reading a book on his tablet, but couldn’t concentrate. In the end, he found himself sitting in the bathtub for an hour.

Eventually, someone knocked on his door. He quickly got up to dress in a t-shirt and pants and open it. It was Mike.

“Ray. Are you okay? Elia said I should come and check on you.”

Ray stepped aside to allow him into the room. He entered. “I’m fine. I think.” Ray shut the door behind him.

“Do you want to talk about what you guys found out? Elia didn’t tell me, she said that’s only yours to talk about,” he sounded anxious.

“I… I might be able to talk about it later. Now I just…”

For a moment, he just stared at Mike, who was standing right in front of him. The next, they were holding each other. He didn’t know who started it, if it looked like he needed it and Mike went for it or if he was the one who approached Mike, but it didn’t matter. He rested his head on Mike’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

“I know. The burden… it must have been terrible. But I’m here so you don’t have to carry it alone. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ray’s voice sounded exhausted and shaken. He hadn’t had to think before saying it; it was true. It had been true for as long as he could remember.

Mike turned his head to be as close as possible to Ray’s. His lips brushed Ray’s jawline, his chin… and finally Ray raised his head from Mike’s shoulder too so that they could kiss.

They kissed for long, and the kisses got harder and hungrier. Then Mike broke it off to bite Ray’s ear, then his neck, hard enough to be felt but not to be painful, and licked the place of his bite.

Ray gasped and reached with his hand beneath Mike’s shirt to feel his chest; it was firm and warm. Then his hand went down, and down…

Mike pushed him back into bed. And it wasn’t long before Mike took every painful thought off Ray’s mind and replaced it with other things.

When they were finished, they lay down by each other’s side. Mike’s hand brushed Ray’s hair delicately. Soon, the memory of what he’d discovered was back. He sighed and thought he’d tell him. Yes, the moment was beautiful, and yes, he didn’t want to ruin it, but also the longer he waited, the more pain there would be. Once shared, he won’t have to bear it alone. He told him what he and Elia discovered and what her explanation for the fake memories was.

“I’m so sorry,” Mike said, and raised his head to give Ray a tender kiss. “Do you… sometimes, do you still get those thoughts?”

“Suicidal thoughts, you mean? When I take the meds, I don’t get such bad mood swings anymore. I don’t want to kill myself, I just think things will be easier… if I died. Just eternal rest. You know, when I did that, I had a life that people dreamed of having. I was engaged to an amazing girl, I was about to graduate from college in my major of choice, and I was heir to billions. And even now my life still isn’t half bad, minus that whole thing with the dreams. I sometimes wonder if I’m just ungrateful.”

“No, you’re not. That’s how mental illness is. It destroys you from the inside, and then tells you to be thankful that you’re not damaged on the outside too. Don’t listen to it. Listen to Elia though. You really do need a nap. Just fall asleep. If you want me to go away…”

“No, please, stay.”

Mike stayed, and held Ray in his arms until he slept. Ray _was_ grateful. How dare his head tell him otherwise?

* * *

For the next couple of days, plans were being made. Miriam distributed the sketch she had drawn. To not look suspicious while still managing to circle the guy from all directions, they would disperse around the building, and should someone ask why they were getting into campus, they would say that they’re taking Miriam on a tour because she was going to get in there, and it was Ray’s idea since he was an alum. Arthur, Elia and Mike were supposed to observe the Humanities building from a car that Arthur had rented, and Miriam and Ray would be already inside the building, hiding at the end of the hallway behind the stairs. Once the guy would enter the building, the trio in the car would get inside, and once the students would start leaving the halls and the guy would take out the rifle, Arthur, Elia and Mike would tase him and incapacitate him from behind while Ray and Miriam would come from the end of the hallway to take away his weapons.

While making this plan, Ray had to remind Arthur at least three times that no, they couldn’t just “pick him off outside the building and beat the shit out of him” because then he could sue them all for assault and they’d have no evidence that he intended to use the weapons he possessed to actually shoot 50 people, and even worse, he’ll walk free and probably try to do it elsewhere. They couldn’t attack him before he’d take out his rifle at all, and hopefully they’d be quick enough before he points at someone and shoots.

In the meantime, Ray made sure to make Miriam aware that he had slept with Mike.

“Just hope my turn isn’t too far off, hot spot,” she had answered, to which he chuckled and ruffled her hair.

He had also told her and Arthur about his suicide attempt. He let Miriam stand on his shoes and hug him, but he told Arthur that if he said anything cheesy he’ll punch him in the face, so Arthur said “Just don’t do that stupid shit again, ever.”

The night of October 11, it had finally doomed on them that one (or more) of them could actually get seriously hurt the next day, so they spent the night together in the hotel restaurant. They ate and talked away their worries, or tried. The talk sounded nonchalant but nervous. When drinks came, they helped things out, but only a little bit.

“If I may propose a toast,” Arthur said, “to this group of misfits here who are all amazing. We’ve all met because of my nerdy and weird introverted friend here, and honestly I couldn’t be happier that we did.”

“To me,” Ray said, “it doesn’t very much feel like friends. More like a family that I’ve picked out myself.”

“I want to thank God for the day you fingered my mouth and changed my life. I like you, weirdo,” Miriam said, looking at Ray, “And I love all of you. Like Ray said, you guys are my family now.”

“To the day you came into my office and told me that your dreams come true,” Elia said. “That was the same day he fingered Miriam’s mouth, by the way. God, it was probably the longest day in his life.” They laughed.

“To my love,” Mike said, waving his cup towards him, “to all of us.”

They all echoed, “To all of us” and drank. The rest of the night was calm with nothing to speak of.

In the morning, they all met in the lobby at 12:30 dressed in comfy, generic clothing that wouldn’t set them apart from the students. Arthur rode the rented car and Ray sat in the front seat to give him directions. After they bypassed campus security and were allowed entry, it wasn’t long before they arrived at the humanities building.

“We’re here,” Ray announced. “Miriam and I should go. I’ll see you inside.”

“Wait,” Elia said. “There’s an actual chance that the next time we see each other one of us or more will be dead. So I would actually like to say goodbye properly. I know this is making you guys uncomfortable, but it’s supposed to. This whole situation is fucked up.”

Ray swallowed. “I’ll start. Arthur, you know how important you are to me. If I die, you take care of Sandy, okay? And if you die, I’ll take care of your horse.”

“Wait,” Elia said, “he has a horse?”

“Yeah, he owns a black horse named Thanatos.”

“Thanatos?” Elia sounded confused.

“I named it,” Ray explained.

“Oh, okay.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, “but also if something happened to you today it’ll mean I fail at restraining some frail loser which nobody dares say.”

“Thank you. Elia, I can’t believe I’ve only known you for days. You know more about me now than I probably know about myself. Thank you for being there for me.”

He could see Elia in the mirror smiling tenderly. “And you’re the weird, self-destructive brother I never had. So, I kind of have to be.”

Ray chuckled, then his smile disappeared, and he swallowed. “Mike…” their eyes met in the mirror. “I love you. That’s all I can say.”

Mike was sitting in the chair behind him, and from there he reached with his hand to touch Ray’s neck. “Nothing will happen to you today. We’ll take care of that bastard before you get to him. You understand?”

Ray nodded. “Now is my turn,” Miriam said. “The three of you, I’m really grateful to have you. I know I’ve only known you for days, but even if my laughable suicide attempt had failed (which it was going to) I was eventually going to die alone, probably homeless. If I die today, I die with all of you, knowing that I had a family that was going to take care of me. So thank you.”

They smiled at Miriam and gave her reassuring words. Ray looked at his watch… it was 1:10.

“Alright… Miriam and I should go. Guy should be walking into the building in minutes.”

He and Miriam opened their doors and left. The only place where the car could be parked was a few minutes walk from the building. While walking, he tried to avoid observing his surroundings. Everything in that place reminded him of Hayley. Of the two years they spent together, the trauma of discovering her death, the defeat, the feverish efforts to study in the very last minutes to be able to graduate and end that chapter of his life. Even whatever happened to push his mood into such a dark state for him to commit suicide, even though he couldn’t remember it, was still there. And they all haunted him.

“You know… we are probably going to get through this,” Miriam said. She was walking behind him. “We are very prepared. Arthur vowed at least fifteen times to kick his ass. Though now that I think of it, we probably should have worn anti-bullet vests or something. Shit.”

He was grateful for the distraction. He laughed. “Actually Mike proposed it at one point, but the guy has a rifle, no bullet proof vest is going to stop rifle bullets.”

“He does have other guns, though, right?”

“Yeah, but once he’s incapacitated enough to take the rifle from him, the other guns won’t be a problem.”

They arrived at the glass doors of the building. Ray took a deep breath and pushed one.

The air was familiar, warm, and it smelled like books and sweat and an artificial scent of flowers. His brain echoed at the sight, this exact same place, unchanged, calm and sleepy in the early mornings before the lectures would start, or tired and hectic at the end of the day. They were now closer to the latter than to the former, but classes were still going, so the hallway was quiet, with only him and Miriam and a few other students walking by, reading things on notice boards, checking out their phones… he looked away from their faces quickly; he didn’t want to recognize one of them as a victim. He looked at the ground while walking, trying to focus.

Finally he and Miriam arrived at the staircase and hid in the dark corner behind it. There was a wall that protected them from being sighted from the hallway thus avoiding the shooter seeing them and getting suspicious, but they could spy on the hallway from behind that wall if they wanted.

_And now, we wait._

Ray and Miriam took turns looking at the hallway. Moments passed, and neither of them dared to talk. The glass door got pushed a couple of times and it wasn’t him, but their hearts skipped a beat every single time. The third time, Ray took one glance that was enough for him to close his eyes and get lost in thought.

It was him.

Now that he could behold their plan, he started to have doubts. What if they don’t succeed? What if they get killed too? His stomach dropped.

It appeared that Miriam’s mind was echoing his. “Ray… I don’t know if they’ll be able to get him quick enough. I’m panicking.”

He tried to control his own panic and held her hand. “Hush. Look, it’ll work, it’ll work, it’ll work…” he didn’t know if he was saying it to himself or to her. He looked down at his watch, it was 1:27. The guy was standing by the notice board already.

“I’m scared, Ray… we don’t know if they’ll be able to get here on time, maybe they’ll need an extra few seconds.”

“Miriam, there’s nothing we can do about that,” he was whispering, but it was clear that if he could, he would be yelling.

“Yes there is. Here, I want you to have this.”

She reached into her pocket and took out a folded paper, then kissed him on the lips before he could comprehend what was happening. “Open it,” she said after she broke off the kiss. He did as she said. It was a pencil sketch. He observed its beauty for a moment before he gathered the features and realized that it’s him. When he looked up, she was gone.

Miriam was walking from their safe location straight towards the shooter. _Fuck._ His heart was racing so hard he wondered if it would stop any minute. Before he could think, he got out of the spot and went after her, in as calm a pace as he could; he didn’t want to run or look suspicious, who knows what the guy would do if he felt cornered… he could take out a gun and shoot Miriam, who was now pretty close to him. He saw her approach the guy and start a conversation. He gathered all of his mental power to think of a plan. When he was finally close enough, he took a good look at the guy’s face; a face he hated before seeing: The long and bony nose, and wormy lips, the acne… he could see that the guy was a bit taken aback by Miriam approaching him.

“Hi there,” Ray found himself saying, “I’ve been looking for you!” he said, looking at Miriam. Then he looked at the guy. “Hi. My name is Ray, this is my sister Miriam. You look new. Are you lost?”

“Oh… no, I’m good.”

Ray looked at Miriam and saw her not-so-subtly wink at the guy. Is she trying to act like she likes him to distract him? Ray could see that working. He could imagine that this is the typical loser whose ego taught him that having a penis means he is owed female attraction, and he probably never got any, so he snapped.

“Are you sure?” Miriam asked. “Because Ray and I were waiting for a friend, and after that we can give you a tour. It’ll be cool. We’ll introduce you to some cool people, take you to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich, maybe go get a coffee outside of campus later… it’ll be fun. Making new friends is the highlight of college.”

Miriam was doing okay wasting time; distracting him while not making him suspicious. But he could feel how shaken she was on the inside, and he was, too.

And then Ray heard the buzz of students leaving the halls. The guy started looking around him, the look of a cornered predator that was about to attack. Ray whispered to Miriam, as quickly as possible, “When he takes it out, stay behind me. I’ve a plan.” He hoped she understood him, and that she will actually do it.

“You know,” Ray said, still trying to distract him, “my friend that I’m waiting for, he’s the star quarterback of the football team. You look like you have a great build. With a bit of training and some protein in your diet, you could get on the football team. Or basketball, since you’re pretty tall.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” the guy was grabbing his backpack. He felt Miriam get behind him. _Thank God she’s not acting stupid again._ He could glimpse people running towards the glass door from outside the building, and he could see they were Arthur, Elia and Mike. Still, they were about 10 to 15 seconds away, which was ample time for the guy to point and shoot. The zipper of the backpack was already opened, and he had grabbed and taken the rifle out.

Ray only had seconds to act. He got too close to him to be in the rifle’s range, with Miriam close behind him. “Get back,” the guy warned him, but it was too late. The muscles of Ray’s right arm tensed as much as they could, and Ray punched him in the stomach. Then, in the second where he was too shocked and hurt to act, Ray kicked him in the navel.

Screaming had already erupted once people glimpsed the rifle. The guy was now on the floor, and the rifle was still in his hand. Ray put his foot on his wrist and stomped down as hard as he could. The guy screamed.

Arthur was finally there. He leaned to take away the rifle and give it to Mike, then the backpack that had the rest of the guns in it, and Elia carried it. Ray got back a couple of steps, with Miriam still behind him. People were still screaming and running away, but Arthur had already been on top of the guy, punching and kicking.

But in seconds, something went wrong: Arthur started shaking, galvanized. The guy then pushed Arthur’s body off of his. Ray had a split second to think what just happened: _Arthur was so angry he forgot about the taser._ The guy saw it coming out of his pocket, so he grabbed it and tased him.

But in the next second, Ray couldn’t think. He only saw the guy’s hand go under his pants, and when it came out, it was holding another gun. He heard the gunshot, the screams, and imagined the drops of blood that flew off his back. Then he heard another gunshot before he sank to his knees and everything went dark.

* * *

For the first time, in his dream, he was going back.

It was a hospital room, furnished in all white and gray, with a few nurses scurrying around a sleeping girl with short, brown hair and pale skin. _Hayley._ Her delicate face was battered and bruised. And soon, he heard a long whistle and saw a straight green line on a black background. _She was dying. She was dead._

He went back before that and saw himself, standing in an all too familiar apartment’s bathroom. Somehow, he was able to tell what the Him from the past thought and felt. He had just fought with Hayley who had told him that he needed help from a professional, and that if he doesn’t seek it, she’ll break things off. But he couldn’t talk to people about his feelings. He couldn’t talk about his thoughts. Later, it would take months of training with Dr. Rolland to do that.

He was looking at the bathroom’s mirror and wondering why he was still alive. _You can end it, you idiot. Why are you not doing that?_

He watched himself raise a plastic container of sleeping pills and lower the lid towards his mouth. A handful fell into it, and he swallowed them with a glass of water. More… and more water. More…

Minutes after he took the pills, he was still staring at himself in the mirror, waiting for the peace he was promised. It wasn’t long before he could no longer stay upright. He lost control of his limbs slowly, and then fell to the ground, knocking down the glass.

He went back years earlier. It was the summer after high school, when he had to tell his parents that he was going to California. He was sitting in his parents’ calm, elegant parlor, telling his mum about the decision.

“Dear, you know how your father is. It’ll be me and him, thinking about work all day every day, only talking to me when he has to invite me to some gala, only because his friends’ wives will be there. Does it have to be the farthest place from here? I was hoping you’d only be a road trip away.”

“Mum, I understand that, I just… I need my time away from dad, too. And the decision is already made. Even he won’t be able to stop it.”

_You’re nothing but a selfish brat, Ray Daniels._

His mum sighed. “Fine. Just call me, always. I’ll even get on that skype thing.” She patted his silky platinum hair, and brushed it with her hand. “I love you.”

“I…” He almost said he loved her too, but it was not coming out. Like every single time he tried to let people know that he had feelings, he choked. “Me too,” he ended up saying, and he shrunk in pain as he glimpsed the slight disappointment in his mother’s eyes.

Soon, everything around him evaporated.

All that he could see was gusts of smoke, or vapor… gray disturbances in a gigantic, starry space. They were swimming in it, flying away, or closing in. He looked down at himself… he was a flame, a light, a shining star. Merely one of those stars in the distance.

One of those gray gusts of smoke was too close to him for comfort. He tried moving away… it moved with him. Many tries to move away failed; it was as if it was attached to him.

For some reason, understanding came to him: This was the spiritual that Dr. Hart had talked about. This smoke that was attached to him… this was The Touch.

_You’ve almost destroyed what little remained of my sanity after Hayley, and now you got me killed. Are you some rogue, vengeful spirit that wanted to punish me for my selfishness? Are you a sickness that I caught in my first time here?_

His vision blurred, and he knew that he went back in time again…

He was in the same place, even in the same spot, only this time he knew: This as his first visit, the one after his suicide attempt. He was the same flame, surrounded by the same smoke and starry space, only this time, The Touch wasn’t attached to him. He thought about Hayley, about his parents, about his life, and the pain came back. But then it got sedated, and instead, his burning was now producing a gray smoke. It hovered around him for a bit, and then attached itself to him. He found himself understanding: The touch came from _him_. From his own pain, his own guilt.

The old him that had committed suicide now left the spiritual as his neighbor doctor was rescuing him, and dreamed. Of the car accident that killed Hayley, he dreamed. And present Ray, the one who was now in the spiritual for the second time, saw the dream again, before going back into himself: A burning light in the spiritual, only this time it had that smoke attached to him.

Ray didn’t know how much time he spent there. But suddenly, he felt his vision blur again, and knew that, this time, he was being taken out. Rescued, or woken, whatever it was. Before he’d leave, he knew there was one thing he had to do.

He didn’t know how he did it, but he felt himself reach down, and push the smoke away from him. He was nothing but a burning energy, and yet somehow he had the power to do that. Maybe, because he was nothing but a spirit now, it was done by sheer power of will? _If I return, I no longer want you. Yes you’ve helped me save lives, but you’ve also made me watch, helpless, as others got taken away. I may be able to save some more people if I kept you, but I’m not a hero, I’m a selfish brat who would like to live in peace._

And then the starry space disappeared, and became pure darkness. He knew he now was no longer dead, but simply sleeping, or sedated. He didn’t know how long he spent there; space and time didn’t exist, for him. And neither did his consciousness. In there, it felt like he, himself, didn’t exist; it was a sweet thing.

And finally, the darkness began to dissipate, and slowly, spots of light and color appeared at the center of it. And slowly, his consciousness came back, too. Something in him told him to hang on to the light and bypass the darkness. _Why?_ Because that’s how he would continue to exist. He wasn’t conscious enough to ask himself whether he wanted to do that at all, it was the primitive instinct to live that pushed him. _Eros, they called it. Eros…_

When all of the darkness was gone, it took him a moment to understand all the colors that surrounded him and shape them into a reality. The reality he was capable of understanding was a hospital room, and his mother sitting by his side. She was looking down at a book she was holding with one hand, while her other one touched his bare wrist. Slowly, he gained control of his lips and his tongue.

“Mum…” he muttered. She looked up at him.

“Oh thank God,” she laughed, and her voice shook. “Thank God. My baby boy.” She got up and kissed his forehead.

He didn’t have enough power to object to being called “baby boy”. “Mum, what happened after I passed out? Where are the others? Elia, Arthur, Mike, Miriam… Are they okay?”

“They are, baby, they are. They’re all waiting outside; they have been for days. Hospital’s policy… because they’re not relatives they can’t see you unless you wake up and agree to seeing them.”

His mind finally eased up a bit. “Did anyone else in UCLA get shot?”

“No, your friends took care of it. It was unbelievably brave of you guys. I heard you were the first to see him take out the rifle and you beat him up. My brave baby boy.” She ruffled his hair. He groaned. Her smile disappeared. “Honey, are you in pain? Are you okay?”

“No, mum, I’m fine, I’m pretty sure I’m on a truck of painkillers.” He tried to push his body up. A gust of pain shot through his chest. “Ow. What happened to me, exactly?”

“You got shot in the chest. You were extremely lucky it didn’t puncture your lungs, or even your heart. You just broke a rib and grazed another, but you did lose some blood. Your dad donated.”

“Dad?” he was surprised.

“Honey…” her tone was full of reproach. “He may be harsh on you sometimes, but he loves you. He’s here too, he just went to get food for us and the others.”

“My own dad, Richard Daniels, went to get takeout like ordinary citizens?”

She sighed. “He did, believe it or not. He actually really liked and appreciated your friends. I think he’s going to promote Arthur.”

“Wait until he hears I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend.”

She laughed. “Yeah, they told me about that, but I told them to wait until you wake up and tell him yourself. I’ll get out and tell the nurses you’re up, then they’ll let the others in to see you. They’ve been waiting for days, and Arthur yelled at the doctors at least three times, Elia told them over a thousand times she’s your psychiatrist, even poor Mike lost his cool.”

“Okay,” he said. She got up. “Mum…” he brushed her hand with his fingers. “I love you.”

She smiled, and leaned to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you too, baby.”

The doctors and nurses came in first, and performed their standard procedures to make sure he was fully conscious and everything was working well. He had a chance to observe himself then: He was wearing blue hospital robes, and beneath them, his chest was in a cast. Tubes were connected to his body in many places. He didn’t want to imagine the condition of his hair. He told them he wanted to see his friends. They told him that’s okay, but his dad wanted to see him first, and it was only appropriate. He agreed.

After that, Richard came in. His father was elegant even then. His black pants, doublet and white shirt looked like something he threw together effortlessly, yet they were perfect. “Rhaegar.”

“Dad, please call me Ray. Please.”

Richard sighed and shook his head, but he didn’t dare argue with his bedridden son, so he just leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“How are you doing, my boy?” he sat in the chair where his mother sat before him, by Ray’s right side.

“I’m better, dad. Thank you for donating your blood.”

“Why, you are my son. I will always be there for you.”

Something about his father’s solid bravado struck him as familiar. Not only in his dad, but also in himself. Or so it used to be. “You… can’t tell people that you feel things, can you?”

His dad’s eyes widened. “What?”

“When you try to tell someone that you love them, or that you have feelings, or anything in between, you can’t. Something in you forces you to look like a marble statue. Am I right?”

Richard was still looking at him in shock. “That’s okay, dad,” Ray said, “I’m not saying that in an insulting manner at all, I used to be like that. I think it’s a symptom of BPD. It took me some behavioral training to fix that, so I’m sure you can too. Just… let go of your prejudice, and go and see Elia. She really is helpful and amazing. I promise you it’ll be worth it. Your relationship with mum, with me… everything will become better.”

A frown appeared between his dad’s eyes, and then disappeared, and he looked down at Ray’s hand, expressionless. Then he grabbed it, squeezed it, closed his eyes and sighed. He looked so tired. _That’s what 50 years of suppressing your feelings will do to you._

His father looked up at him again. “The fact that you’re injured and bedridden right now but still trying to help others reminds me of your mum. Well, I’ll be seeing you again. In the meantime, your boyfriend is seriously going to kick somebody’s butt if he doesn’t get to see you right now.”

His dad went out, and in seconds, his door was almost knocked down. They were almost trampling each other to get in. Miriam was the first to get to him and kiss him. She broke it off quickly because the others were right behind them. They were saying so many things all at once while Mike came in to kiss him too. Mike’s kiss lasted a second longer than Miriam’s.

“Okay, everyone please hold on…” Elia almost yelled at them. “Before anything, one must crown our king.” She was holding a cardboard crown folded in two. She unfolded it, and put it on his head.

“You scared us shitless,” Miriam said, matter-of-factly. He laughed.

“The next time you get shot, please don’t be in deadly danger. Please,” Mike asked him.

“You guys, stop inflating this guy’s ego. I’m the one who will spend his entire nine-to-five with him, five days a week. Hey Ray, ignore them and imagine how you would feel if you had cheated on your wife and gotten her killed.”

Ray grimaced. “Ugh. Fuck you, Arthur.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s not helping,” Elia said, suppressing a laugh.

“Wait…” Ray closed his eyes and asked in amusement, “did you just call him baby? Are you guys actually doing it now?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really pick the words ‘doing it’,” Elia said, “but yeah, you can say we are… we’ve been seeing each other. And by seeing each other I mean we’d occasionally break away from the group to go get a coffee from the place nearest to the hospital.”

“Did you guys rent a romantic getaway by any chance?”

“Coming soon,” Arthur said, and winked.

“Will you two stop,” Elia said, and sounded a little embarrassed.

Miriam was sitting by his side in his mother’s chair, playing with his hair. He turned to her, and raised his hand to brush her cheek. “The sketch you gave me…”

“Oh, your mum has it. They transferred all the belongings you had on you to her when she came.”

“It’s more beautiful than I could ever be. Thank you.”

She looked at the rest. “This guy is full of shit.”

They all laughed. He turned to Mike, who was on his knees on his other side. But he couldn’t touch Mike because his left hand had at least 2 tubes protruding from it. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” he leaned his head on Ray’s forearm to kiss it. When he looked up at him, they smiled at each other tenderly.

“You know, I’d advise the three of you to get a room, but I doubt Ray would be able to do that, for a good while.” Arthur said.

“I’m actually going to call the nurse to remove you,” Ray said in a very serious tone.

“Told you guys you were inflating his ego too much.”

Then Ray remembered what he had wanted to know from them. “What happened after I passed out? I think I heard another gunshot, but mum said no one got shot…”

“Oh, someone did…” Mike said, and looked at Elia.

“I shot him,” Elia said. “Once I saw him pulling that gun from his pants, I reached into his backpack and grabbed one of his other two guns. I had no time to think; he was a dick and he was going to kill people, so I pulled the trigger, but sadly I wasn’t quick enough to do it before he shot you.”

“No, forget that…” Ray said, wide-eyed. “You actually shot him?”

“Remember when Miriam said I could come with you because I already had experience with a violent loser? I remembered that, back then. I remembered that if one of us was going to know how dangerous this aggression is and act against it even in the most extreme way, it was me. So, I didn’t hesitate. And you know what? I won’t move houses or offices either. The next time that asshole is out of prison, I _will_ pull the trigger, should he dare to come my way again.”

“Honestly? You’re awesome.” Ray said it as a fact.

She smiled at him. Then she continued. “And in other good news, when the university authorities interrogated us to know why we were there, we told them that we were looking for a college for Miriam and you proposed to take her on a tour because you were an alum. And then… Miriam, you want to tell him yourself?”

Miriam took a deep breath. “The university’s president offered me a full scholarship in any college of my choosing. Tuition, board, books, even dorms… basically I won’t have to pay a dime. I can start this next spring semester.” Miriam’s voice was shaking with excitement.

“Wow. Congratulations, this is amazing!” Ray laughed in genuine happiness that he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

Miriam was squealing. “I mean, you know, “we’re heroes and we saved God knows how many lives”, et cetera, and then he wished you the best health and said they’ll honor you and all of us. He actually came and spoke with the doctors about your condition the first day you were here, and offered to pay all of the hospital bills, but your father thanked him for the generous offer and insisted it’s on him. Your dad may or may not have made an academic friend, now.”

They all laughed.

“Oh, and something else I wanted to tell you…” she cleared her throat, “Mike and I are now involved, too. Romantically, that is.”

“Oh, that’s… great! What happened?”

“Well,” Mike said, “we were both worried shitless for you, so we ended up spending the night together at the hotel, and you know how things progress from there.”

Ray smiled and looked at Mike, then at Miriam. “I’m happy to have you guys in my life, and I was so worried about the complications that this whole thing was going to cause. I hope this makes things less complicated. Or maybe it’ll make things more complicated, who knows, but I’m actually beginning to learn to hope for the best.”

Days later, the doctors deemed it safe to transport Ray back to Seattle. His father’s private jet was at their service, and for the first time, he had his entire family around him: His parents, Mike and Miriam, and Arthur and Elia. Ray got the chance to get a moment with his dad to tell him about his polyamorous relationship. He wasn’t as bummed or thrown off as Ray had expected him to be. Later, his mum explained, “He now knows what it would feel like to be scared to death to lose you. He’s learned not to take you for granted anymore, and to accept you as you are.”

When Ray arrived in his house, Mike told him the doctors’ regulations in a stern voice. He was allowed to shower, with Mike’s help. He was allowed minimal movement from the bed, like going to the bathroom or getting up to change his clothes. He needed to stay on as healthy a diet as possible. All of that for at least a month. After that, Ray’s doctors in Seattle would get in touch with the LA doctors and keep track of his condition. From Mike’s voice, he knew he was basically not going to be able to break those rules at all.

The next day, Elia came to visit him with Arthur. He told Elia about the things he saw in his coma. The bits about the spiritual world, the smoke and how he was able to push it away, made her put her hand on her mouth and made her eyes widen while she listened. “I don’t think I’ll ever have those prophetic dreams again, Elia.”

“Do you mind if I tell Professor Hart about all those developments? I’m sure they’ll help her research immensely.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Without the information that Dr. Hart had provided him with, he wouldn’t have known where he was or that the smoke that was attached to him was the Touch. He wouldn’t have pushed it away.

The rest of the conversation was light-hearted. But when the couple was about to leave, Elia said, “Oh, I almost forgot…” she opened her bag, and took out an envelope. “After you got shot, I was curious about the package that Bill said he was going to deliver to you that day, and what happened to it, so I went back to the building. Turns out, he had it still. He completely forgot to give it to you because of everything that happened afterwards. I took it from him. I didn’t open it, though.”

She handed it to him. It had “H.” on it.

“You want to tell me what it is?”

He swallowed. “It’s from Hayley. She and I wrote each other letters. We only texted when it was extremely necessary because we hated it. That day we had fought before she went to visit her parents. If she’s left a letter for me with him…”

“We’re going to leave to let you read that in private,” she said, “but if I may advise you as your ex-psychiatrist, I think you shouldn’t read it if it’s going to be too upsetting.”

“Yeah, listen to her, she’s the expert,” Arthur said seriously.

Ray sighed. “Thank you guys. For everything.”

“God, I can’t wait until I can punch you in the chest again,” said Arthur.

“Douchebag.” Ray whispered, fully intending for Arthur to hear it. Arthur flipped him off and laughed.

After they went away, Ray put the letter on the nightstand, and got up, wincing from the pain that was muffled by the painkillers, but still sharp enough to be felt. He walked into the kitchen where Mike and Miriam were cooking. He saw Mike laugh at something Miriam said and print a soft kiss on her shoulder. Ray smiled at the sight. He walked in, and their eyes turned to him.

“Do you absolutely have to come here right now?” Mike complained.

“Yes,” Ray whispered, resting his head on Mike’s shoulder. He felt Miriam coming in and hugging him from behind. She whispered into his ear, “You should be resting in bed right now.”

“I know,” he said, “I just wanted to let you guys know that I love you.” He turned around to face Miriam, and kissed her, slowly and properly, this time. He could feel Mike behind him, kissing his hair and rubbing his shoulders. After a few moments, they insisted that he go back to bed. He did.

When he was finally lying down, he reached for the envelope on the nightstand. He took a deep breath, opened it, and unfolded the paper that was inside. His eyes wandered between the letters of Hayley’s delicate, intricate handwriting.

_“Dear Ray,_

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said, my love. I would never, ever leave you. Nothing in the world would hurt me more than to do that._

_I want you to see a doctor because I can’t bear the fact that you’re not happy anymore. Remember what you told me about not being able to talk about your feelings? I don’t care; you’ve made them clear every step of the way. Remember when you told me that you’re generally an emotional mess? I don’t care how that impacts me either, all I want to know is that you’re not in pain._

_When I was in high school, I remember thinking about my best friend Nessie that I never would have thought that she was sad or hurting, but only after she killed herself did I realize. I don’t want this to ever happen to you. I don’t want to leave you somewhere and then worry that you might hurt yourself because I left you at a bad low._

_Maybe the first steps to learn about managing your emotions and being able to admit them would be seeing a professional? Maybe learning to let go is not the end goal, but the first step on the road? I want you to do whatever you require to feel better, but in the meantime, I will never, ever, abandon you. I don’t care how much it hurts me, I will be by your side._

_Love,_

_H.”_

* * *

_The End._


End file.
